Selected Poems
These are some of my favorite poems this month. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
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Poems—Nov 2013
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Tag Archives: Nature
The Wisdom of Waiting
It was this kind of a day…
Except for mesh-top athletic shoes, I’d bundled up warm under a green umbrella. The cold front’s wind had passed earlier, but drizzle and low temperatures remained.
A Hickory Creek Hike
On this windy but mellow afternoon, I walked the extra distance to Hickory Creek Park and was rewarded with beautiful scenes and intriguing finds. For example, a certain type of tree caught my eye because it had retained most of its blade-shaped leaves, which were still green shifting to yellow. Upon investigation, I found a profusion of large, unusually-capped acorns on the ground beneath the tree. Many had fallen to some nearby pavement or among the rocks and gravel that edge it.
Cedar and Sycamore
The more I try to avoid my neighbor, the more often we seem to cross paths—literally. This woman is older than I and smaller. Her two terriers are about the size of my cats. Twice a day or so, she walks the dogs along the road by her house—the same road I walk at least three times a week. If the dogs catch sight of me, it’s all she can do to restrain them on their leashes, so, naturally, we try to avoid each other. Trouble is, neither of us has a set schedule of when we do our walking.
Photo “Enhancements”
Why be happy with what you’ve got…
when you can have more, more, MORE?
Those lyrics from a Pinocchio presentation made such an impression on me years ago that they are firmly entrenched in my mind. Apparently, I’ve lost all related details because now I can’t find any connection online between the lyrics and Pinocchio. Did I dream this up?
Pinocchio is a cautionary tale about over-desiring and overdoing. What brought the lyrics to mind was how easy and inexpensive it is to modify photographs these days.
Outdoors in October
FUTZING? A Facebook Post…
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Compelled by blue skies and still-green foliage, I took my own advice yesterday and went walking. Continue reading
Lost in Love
Love, Writing and Love of Writing
Some poems come instantly.
Others come as a spark that has to be instantly kindled. Still others are like sand-castles-in-the-making on a shore; the vision must be held and refined intensely all the while the tide recedes.
Artists (and others) who love their work understand the meditative suspension of time and distraction that occurs in “the zone.” Whole days can be absorbed in that state. Of the two poems that follow, the first came quickly (though not instantly) and the second took a good bit of post-construction. Continue reading
Speaking of Poetry
Buzzards and Poems
Can you believe it? I was just asked to make a presentation on these joint topics to the Arkansas Audubon Society. Their upcoming convention. will be September 27-28 in Harrison AR.
I am beside myself with wonder. Which causes me to wonder if Lynn Sciumbato, the local vulture expert will be there. I also hope I’ll be able to locate the extensive vulture research I once did. Otherwise, I’ll start from scratch.
The correct term for what most Americans call “buzzard” is actually “vulture.” So I’m counting on the Audubon audience to be indulgent with my use of the incorrect common name. The word “buzzard” actually refers to a type of hawk. Scientists and Europeans are sticklers for this distinction.
This invitation to speak didn’t come completely out of the blue … sky … like a buzzard. One morning I saw a glimpse of a bird that I couldn’t quite identify; it was large and dark with white wing-tips. So I looked up the Arkansas Audubon Society on Facebook and asked questions. A long discussion followed. In it, I mentioned my love of buzzards and the related poetry. And now … voila! A chance to share.
Let’s see. I’ll dredge up a buzzard poem for you …
HAIL, FELLOW
Every day, a buzzard
comes into my view—
flying solo overhead
or swooping down, quite low,
or stationed in some untoward place.
It seems to say, “Hey, you!”
There’s nothing that I dread
or worry I should know.
I simply view it as a grace
and I reply, “Hey!” too.
My affinity for buzzards grew out of several moving and meaningful encounters. Maybe you know of a group that’s hot to hear these stories in a presentation on “Buzzards and Poetry”? Not likely, I know, but I’m ready when the group is. ♥ ~Jo
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Photo Credits: Images cropped from a couple of my recent snapshots.
Lingering Lushness
Landscape Views
Arkansas Woods and Road in August
Amazingly, thankfully, the verdure brought by early August rains still graces the scenery of my daily walks. The woods remain extra-green and neighbors’ flower plantings are full and lush.
Landscape plantings
Pom-pom Mushroom
Mushrooms continue to appear, puff up, brown, and die away. Some varieties are especially beautiful; this globe-shaped one is reminiscent of an anemone on a sea-floor.
The sudden appearance of seedlings and mushrooms can be explained. But the alligator intrusion is still a mystery …
Unexpected Arrival
Mysterious Gator
The only known fact about the gator’s arrival is that it materialized on the asphalt by our mailbox one morning. I had no idea what to do with it. Eventually, I decided to move it to the top of the mailbox, partly to witness Ethan’s reaction when he gathered in the noon mail. His reaction, if any, was imperceptible—probably because so many strange events occur in our lives anyway.
Strange or not, I addressed the alligator in a poem.
NON-RESPONSIVE
I found a gator in the road
lounging smugger than a toad.
When I looked into his eyes,
I saw that he was rubberized.
“Gator, are you someone’s toy?
Are you best friends with a boy?”
(Might as well talk to a tree;
Gator only grinned at me.)
Verdant Vines
One of the prettiest sights recently is this view of vines at a retaining wall railing.
Vines on Wrought Iron Railing
Opposite the railing and slanting down the hill slope is the view that appears at the top of today’s blog post. I feel very fortunate to live near such beauty and to be fit enough for daily excursions.
Every place has its own beauty … how is it where you live?
♥ ~Jo
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Sprites, Spirits, and Sprouts
Pert as Pixies
Mushrooms on mulch
Brown ones, tan ones, white, gray, orange … mushrooms sprouted all over the landscape after early August rains. Some were seen playing “king of the mountain” on a neighbor’s mulch pile.
One particular mushroom displayed exuberance at simply being alive by breaking into a dance, although a fairly static one.
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Mushroom displaying gills
GILL’S NIGHT OUT
mushroom
lifts her
can-can skirt:
evening
entertainment
Jaunts and Haunts
This August, walking was pleasant at almost any time of day. Near one of my routes and tucked away beneath overhanging tree branches is an abandoned cul de sac that affords some wonderful shade and privacy. (Truth be told, it is not abandoned at all; the privacy is shared.)
Abandoned cul de sac
WOODLAND WAYSIDE
Blocked entrance to street
I went today
where dead children play
and grownups seldom venture.
There,
trees decay, vines ascend,
shadows shift and blend,
and a forsaken roadbed crumbles.
Still,
it’s quite a pleasant place
where wild weeds jumble …
and where bees, birds, light,
dark, bugs, toads, mice,
and other beloveds
of nature and children interplay.
Stairs at sidewalk
The street curves and is about half a block long, including the turnaround. A stairway leads from the sidewalk to nowhere in particular, but a mimosa tree on the higher ground indicates that a house was once nearby—inhabited of course, as the place still seems to be. ~ ♥Jo
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