Allow me to mimic journalistic bigs
and re-live a year through some of the poems I wrote that had not--at the time--seen
the black of printer’s ink or the forums of the Internet.
JANUARY. “this New Year’s morning/ just like all the
others/ at least at daybreak”
“New Year’s afternoon/ opening the fridge/ to heat my
coffee”
“on Epiphany/ an epiphany: my book’s/ theme is
desertion"
“light snow/ highlighting bare branches/ of
hardwoods”
FEBRUARY. “Two red/ pickups scream past/ my homestead,
and then/ the wheeah, wheeah of the small/fire truck.”
“February 9th/ sparrow
lounges in birdbath/ between wind gusts”
“another winter predawn~/ from the south window,
crescent/ moon through bare branches”
MARCH. “paying bills~/ aroma of King
Alfred/ daffodils.”
“Behind/ the upper glass/ of door appeared a face/ of
white. His eyes were marble-blue, / a-slant.// He saw/ me ‘see’ him; did/ not
move or duck below/ the glass or scurry off the screen, / this cat.”
APRIL. “A lone/goose honks as it/
flies over; its voice dies/ out gradually, like the sound of/ sirens.”
MAY. “the church meeting/ I freeze
while my neighbor/ fans herself”
“rooster/ adding to early morning/ birdsong”
“mid-May/ after a rain-filled
fortnight/ 48 degrees”
“wind-blown
rain/ forcing me off the porch swing/ Memorial Day”
JUNE. “the white cat/ grooming himself/ in my
flowerbed”
“last day of June/ 80 degrees/ at seven a.m. / a
slight breeze from the north added/ to that made by moving swing”
JULY. “first, fireworks, then/
thunder...the cats/ find a hidey hole”
“behind Mother’s fern/ I sit in the
porch swing/ in my gown tail/ early traffic past the house/ cares nothing of
it”
“my back to the
woods/ turning, the only movement/ a black butterfly”
AUGUST. “eating just the heart/ the
long-cut watermelon/ that takes up fridge space”
“Earthquake, / landslide, typhoon/ stories all
appearing/ on the same page of today’s state/ paper.”
“the lightning bug/ flying onto the porch/ from the
rain—it lights”
SEPTEMBER. “standing in line/ at the Dairy King ... Gourmet/ Foods deliveryman”
“impatient / to follow me ... her claw/caught in the
screen”
“first day of fall/ the haiku journal full/ of spring
poems”
OCTOBER. “kittens/ using the
birdbath stand/ as a climbing wall”
“upturned flowerpot/ mother cat swishing her tail/ so
kittens can play.”
“brown and yellow leaves/ carpeting the yard,
floating/ in the birdbath”
NOVEMBER. “the daily rains end/ a slough becomes a
river/ the ditch, a slough”
“birds on the train rails/ ignoring the sign that
says/ Do Not Stop On Tracks”
“Ides of November/ finding a lone white circlet/ of
spirea bloom”
“Thanksgiving Friday/ after the
first frost, the cat/ licks the birdbath ice”
DECEMBER. “from across the room/ I see one cat on a
chair/ but two sets of ears”
“mid-December/ the japonica’s/ pink buds"
“what do I see/ on the New Year’s
calendar? / wind-ruffled bluebird”
May 2015 be a memorable year for
you.
4 comments:
Good Morning, Pat. Thank you for all the comments on my blog. Tanka? I am just not familiar with tanka. Do are your poems above tankas. I looked them up and it said like a haiku...which I do know. So is it only the number of syllables that is different? And yes, revising does count as writing! I think it was Michener that said revising was "re-seeing" your work and it was hardest part of all. Sounds like we are both off to good starts and both have found new poets too! Now I must get to work or I will do what I do best...stray from the job!
Claudia: tanka is also an oriental form, but with 5 lines. Traditionally, 5-7-5-7-7, but I write the modern kind keeping to five lines, period. Yes, let's get to the hard (but good) stuff. xoxo
Enjoyed your year in poems.
Thanks for taking time to read/ respond. Happy, productive new year to you/Terry and the fur babies. xoxo
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