Breathless left me, indeed, breathless. It was beautiful and sensual. Decisions made me feel the weight of years and choices made. If I think about them too much, I may suffocate. Mendacity made raised my ire and my blood pressure. Organized bigotry for corporate profit is a scourge on our time. Thanks a million for all three.
I enjoyed reading these. Weary parents hide evidence of deceit made me smile and remember my own mom and dad. Thanks for helping me touch those memories again.
Like @Wayne Gray, I fell in love with Number 5 immediately. It’s beautiful. I can recognize myself in Number 3; I can feel the change of seasons. I shivered at Number 4 as I pictured the fools in their shorts, and again when I read about the wind making skeletons of every tree. These make a fantastic set.
I’m very glad these poems left a good taste behind. There were so many ways to approach the apple theme that it was hard getting started. Thank you for reading these and for your comments!
Abundance
hangs down low and heavy,
burdened with summer’s recollection
of dandelions glowing yellow, then fading
to blow away on a deep green breeze,
and of bees in the blooms
making love.
~ ~ ~
I sing a song of apples on the branch,
of baskets filled to avalanche,
and gloried, storied flavors everywhere,
a feast for senses, past compare.
If hunger pains I need to swiftly squash,
I’ll choose a shiny McIntosh;
bu
There is much to admire in this set. The first poem gave me a heart-rush; it was exactly what I needed to hear. Prompt 12 fascinated me; both arrangements were fine poems. That particular challenge, along with the Senryu, may be ones I might try too one day. Finally, I cannot help but agree that in these days, a host of angels would be welcome.
Like you, I grew up with a next-door neighbor who baked bread regularly. She was Italian, so her bread and baking took many different forms, depending on the season. It was she who taught my mother about bread, whose knowledge then passed on to us in our generation. I loved your neighbors’ caution about strawberry jam or butter, but not both. Thank you for your comments and recollections.
Thank you for your seasonable observations. I liked Spring, and its recollection of robins in a too-cold tree, waiting for warmth to return; Fall’s metaphor of threadbare coats was especially resonant.
I enjoyed this set of poems. I enjoyed Haiku #7,8 and 13 particularly. Secret made me read and reread each stanza. Wisdom made me smile, for I can connect with it thoroughly.
I’m very glad you liked number 4. I enjoyed writing it as it spilled out of my pen. The miniature lines seemed to agree with me. Thank you very much for reading these and for your generous comments!
Thank you, tim. I hope I'm on the mend. I wrote the ode while my own bread was rising, anticipating the scent as it baked. Now I will be able to imagine yours, too. And I'm glad you liked Cream Cans. I have some special memories of those days. Thanks again.
1. April
In April,
first things arise each day:
the early Claytonia open,
honeybees begin their dances in the scilla,
Hyacinths tune lavender trumpets,
and herald the phoebes
making nests.
Yet also,
April watches last things:
the final, heavy, sodden snowfall;
one tardy crocus blooming ‘midst its slain brethren;
skis and sleds returned to their storage;
and washed winter blankets
hung to dry.
2. Reflections