Daffodils

This is not a poem and not a scholarly article. I realize I don't share a lot because I really want things to be perfect. So here's a picture I took today in my front yard. Is it perfect? Does it matter?

Daffodils like the nice weather we're having!

Haiku

Haiku

tulips torn by rain
Bashō waxes nostalgic
month of white flowers


(4/21/2014)

Haiku (summer)

The orange tabby
stretches for a butterfly —
petunias in bloom.


7/14/2013

Haiku

Haiku

in the green, wet grass
silent blackbirds pick the ground
by blue hydrangeas


(10/26/2012)

Haiku

Haiku

brown plastic leaf bins
the life of the maple tree
makes work for the rake


(10/24/2012)

Autumn Fridge Poetry

Autumn Fridge Poetry

Our journey to

spring was almost

so dream-like:

road in winter

above black-blue

stream trickle.

Yellowing flower

at harvest songs,

cloud is, but full.

Light-owl did make people say:

"Shell, hear!"

"Mushroom has roof!"

From woman:

wild sleep,

lunch, and eat.

Then, have let who (house)

commercial weed garden–

(mouth) between here; (stand)

I later cry.

Face she if

(fish) as

and look

dandelion breath

water- fall

know night,

how they want

early bark cicada, though

off him which–

shiver in life too,

happy thunder child

(moon).

Cat said:

"Snow there!"

Morning giver.

Come, man:

call it thought.

See his tears always smile.

Very an, an evening,

crab eye dog;

rust would freeze,

melt.

(9/17/2011)

Yes, I have a bunch of those word magnets on my fridge, and the above "poem" is what is there right now, word for word (I added the punctuation). I'm getting ready to pack the magnets up as I'm moving in about a week, but I thought it a fun "exercise" to type up what I "wrote" and share it here. I am so tempted to edit/revise, but I like how the meaning of what I came up with is loose word-play, like images in a dream perhaps.

A Thorn

A Thorn

A prickle guards the rose,

But a thorn is nothing:

A bloom that chose

Not to open.

(5/16/2010)

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas

I don't own hydrangeas.

This is not my garden chair.

The street I've walked down many times

Doesn't belong to me.

No one owns the sunshine.

This is not my rain.

I can't claim the color blue.

Flowers owe me nothing.

(1/1/2010)

Tiger Lilies

My tiger lilies are blooming right now. They come out and do their thing only once a year, and they don't last long.

I love their vibrant colors, tight curves, and bold spots. They are aptly named.

This is their time: they signal the second half of summer.

It feels to me like it's been an especially warm summer this year. The sun has been nice, but it would also be nice to get away to someplace cooler, like the coast. I think that's what hot days are best suited for – time to move, time for a change. This month I'm packing and moving out of my house, into an apartment or rental – a very big change for me. Cooler days will be welcome.

Maybe my new place will have lilies, too.

Listen and Hum (2006)

Listen and Hum

What would I miss

(if I could)

after

I'm gone from this place?

Perhaps (others will

miss them in my place)

to listen and

hum along

with my favorite tunes

and my lover's presence

with me

drinking tea and

eating whatever is

for breakfast on the weekend.

(9/2006)

Fences

Fences

The sun abides today,

in glorious spring brightness:

out in my garden I browse

flowers among the bees.

I glance above me and find

tracks of jets cut the sky,

blue haze and wind-swept glow,

like Hyacinth's astral Lover.

It's said good fence, good neighbor,

but I've also heard how

a wall to keep others out

will keep oneself as well.

How much is my garden a garrison,

fenced and walled around?

And if I should look up,

what beyond this do I find?

(5/21/2009)

Spring Flowers

Here are a couple of recent shots from my garden:

time of daffodils

E. E. Cummings wrote a poem I like in which he uses flowers to illustrate the dimensions of experience relating to time: time as change, remembrance, decision points, purpose in life, a sense of identity.

Right now I have patches of beautiful daffodils in front of my house. I planted their bulbs there several years ago, and today I get to enjoy them and share them with whoever may walk by.

"The goal of living is to grow." I reflect a lot on what I will do next. Where will I live after I leave this house behind? Do I want to take some of the flowers with me, or leave them? If I came back years later would I be sad to see them all pulled up and replaced with something else? Change can be really jarring, especially when it is something not in my control, not of my choosing. Do I really have control of anything, or is this notion just an illusion? People and relationships change. I change.

"The goal of living is to grow." And forgetting is as much a part of life as remembering. What will I forget about this place after I leave? Will I be able to forget some of the hurts that make me so timid to risk judgment and rejection?

When I leave here I probably would not have much reason to come back. But I would always be curious about what then happened to the things and people I leave behind.

I love the daffodils...

I like that corny little camp song. And I like the springtime... I've started my allergy medication as of a couple of weeks ago. No major problems yet. The jasmine in our neighbors' yards smells really amazing, again. It's like an old woman's perfume, strong and sweet.

The crocuses in the front yard emerged a couple of weeks ago and are still doing well. I am a tad disappointed to see gaps, though – many bulbs did not come back this year, perhaps because of spraying or too wet of soil in those spots. It's nice to have flowers come back every year. These little guys have been pretty low maintenance since we got them a few years ago.

Just this past week or so the daffodils have started to open. So bright and cheery! :)

As usual for March the weather has been unstable, changeable, and generally moist. We had a bit of a storm here the other morning. It brought in some rain water through a leak in one of the downstairs windows. We'll have to get that re-caulked when it dries out a bit more.

Days like today when it is chilly but the sun is just peaking out, I feel like summer is almost here. But it is nice for it to be mild and a bit wet for a while: the flowers appreciate the rain. :)