Flowery Friday
spring snowballs
delicate white petals
bundled in full bloom
reminiscent of winter
no mittens required
photo and poem by Joanne Faries
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Not The Zoo
no lions
in the park today
mother pushing stroller
reassured blond toddler
her clipped british tone
kept tiger’s stalk
panther’s pounce
gorilla growl at bay
by Joanne Faries
(On Good Friday, at the Dallas Arboretum, I heard those words from a mother pushing a stroller. Obviously the little boy had asked the lion question thinking of past trips to a zoo. My friend and I chuckled - we reviewed our flowery stroll and indeed had been safe from wild animals. )
Travel Poem
Les Voyageurs, Marseilles, France
battered luggage by Joanne Faries
wobbly wheel
worn zipper
strap caught in
carousel circulation
errant side trips
security gropings
overstuffed treats
ocean breeze
mountain snow
ten year adventure
hauled to attic
make room for ultra-lite
advanced technology
travel system
Frozen Pond Poem
Frozen Pond
by Joanne Faries
first layer glistened in the sun
second and more glazed surface bluish
until the ice was leaden gray, stolid
word traveled before days of texts
social media was the knock on the door
excited squeals, exhorted to grab skates
caps, mittens, red scarfs, rustle of ski pants
we blew on our hands, then fingers fumbled
to lace skates. Gloves on, we wobbled
pushed off from makeshift log seats
uncertain of space
no indoor circle. No calliope
music blare or disco ball for couples skate
embrace freedom to dash, meander, spin
avoid older boys’ hockey game
reddened cheeks, drippy noses
we exhaled fog and shouted, “Tag, you’re it.”
until legs wearied, lungs burned
backside bruised from too many spills
afternoon sun waned
we trudged home
skates clicked, dangled from our hands
kitchen light beckoned
hot chocolate hope
Poem: She Let Go
she let go
after a month of rain
weary grip on the earth
the strain to live
tasked her roots
she had no roots
vague memory of youth
intense growth period
heat cycled, hail pounded
wind whipped
green lacy leaves lingered
branches presented a brave prayer
beseeched the sky
sap starved, she dried up inside
despite surging storms
she keeled over
hitting her crown on the roof
final farewell scraped
windows
tiny root tendrils exposed her
secret
so shallow
Note - Ray and I took a walk around the block after our May storms. A rather large maple was uprooted on another street. She looked healthy enough up top with green leaves, but alas, huge gaping hole in the yard revealed.....nothing.
January Poem - Needled
Needled
I believe
I believe in Christmas obliteration
Joyous decoration occurs in early December
painstaking placement of treasured ornaments
heartwarming welcome to Santas and snowmen
time honored traditions prevail
two foot tall nutcrackers greet everyone at
the front door, while jaunty caroler figures
sing from bookshelves galore
the tree stands tall, as a red velvet cloth hides
its ugly stand. Shiny packages, complete with bows
beckon to be opened. Up until December 25th, Christmas
poses with no bad side for the camera.
then
it is over.
naked, the fake tree lists to port.
like a minesweeper I whoosh the figurines and baubles
into boxes. Done. Finished. Farewell faithful holiday
treats. Gaudy reds and greens seem too garish for January
Christmas does protest and tries to linger
lights refuse original packaging
one Santa hides on a far shelf, daring to be found and boxed
and no matter how often you vacuum, there are needles
the tree, in pieces, is stuffed into the attic
a week later needles
two weeks later needles
Easter arrives needles
I believe they win
by Joanne Faries
Friday Farewell - Mary Oliver
Poet, Mary Oliver passed away yesterday at the age of 83. She didn't write "fancy" poetry, as she called it. She just wrote from the heart and could capture nature, life, and love with stunning imagery. I admired her work, and fortunately, her words will live on.
Here is a stanza from Dream of Trees by Mary Oliver
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company,
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
World Poetry Day A Day Late
or gazing at the sky
or watching the return of
the ducks
returned to hang poolside
as they flew overhead did they notice
weeds in our yard, leaves in the pool
wish we'd clean up more?
non-judgmental, they glide under
diving board overhang, content quacks
settle in sun, afternoon snooze
raise flag for cabana service
to no avail, one last dip
before takeoff, emerald head
glints in cloudless sky
by Joanne Faries
Happy Friday and Weekend and Poetry
