You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Chief Seattle, who appears in the Grilled Salmon section of this poetry collection, is an elusive figure in American history. Whether he pulled a fast one is another question, but he did get a major city named in his honor.
As for his role here?
I enjoy his company. I hope you do, too.
~*~
For your own copy, click here.
This time of year, it’s off for mums. This is, especially, New England. It’s all part of the look.
My wife has her favorite nursery, Bluebell, in Lee. They really know the quality of what they carry. The way a good bookstore does.
So where are you headed? And why?
over the kitchen, one black walnut is bare
the other’s just beginning to turn yellow
10 pumpkins wait beside the driveway
even before I collect squashes and gourds
from the garden
autumn touches, make my Lady of Spices happy
chrysanthemums and a few poppies
reset to barrels and pots around the barn and kitchen entry
the mums in the barrels so gorgeous
next to the pumpkin-filled wheelbarrow
the harvest in a wheelbarrow – eggplants, too
or vines in the compost
our blooming cardinal flower
makes me wish more had survived, even just one, to remind us
poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
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For more of my home and garden poems, click here.
Am I really a squirrel, as my wife suggests?
Sometimes I wonder.
~*~
For more on my poetry collection and others, click here.
more squirrels than girls – and there are a lot of girls in this neighborhood
two horny squirrels on a tree
neighbors report a large groundhog … where are those dogs?
possum … how funny they look, running
their back arches, and both ends drop
nearly to the ground
how laborious!
a possum in the bottom of one of our plastic barrels
furrier than I expected
turn the cylinder on its side, still takes a while
for the critter to move off … injured? stunned? no idea
a young porcupine crossing Hill Street four doors down …
a neighbor watching from the stoop …
next night, a dead adult porcupine in the street
on our apron by the back door
a small snake, whip motion,
ever so slowly
Rachel awakens me
for a scurrying, gnawing noise
inside the wall, beside our heads
in the morning, I realize we haven’t heard
the house sparrows nesting in the eaves overhead, either
none of our plans come off as planned
but we keep readjusting
poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
~*~
For more of my home and garden poetry, click here.
Reprise
The amount of wildlife in our yard continually impresses me,
especially compared to Oakdale Avenue or Woodbine.
The abundance of squirrels, of course, and possible rats
but also skunks, opossums, the groundhog can be added in
plus snakes and insects.
We must be doing something right, or just be in the right location.
A first: amid a throng of blue jays chasing a crow, a mockingbird:
was its nest raided or threatened?
~*~
For more on my home and garden poetry, click here.
So much yellow, this time of summer! Sunflowers, finches, goldenrod, corn drenched in butter. Banks of black-eyed susans, too.
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For my collected garden poems and more, click here.
It started when we had some trees removed – the box elder that was shading a third of the Swamp, another shading the kitchen garden, and then a dead elm. We kept the flakes from the cutters’ chipper, rather than having them go to the dump. Repeatedly since, when we hear tree cutters in the neighborhood, we ask if they could give us the truckload, and they oblige, grateful to be spared the city dump charge.
Those chips work great for lining the pathways through our garden or around the yard. Eventually, of course, they decompose and enrich and soften our clay soil. It’s just another of the many lessons we’ve had in assuming an old house and barn and reclaiming a garden and grounds. I’m glad I’ve collected those stories, an indication how far we’ve come over the years, as well as reminders how far we have yet to go.
~*~
For more home and garden poems, click here.
Some of us have backbones. And some don’t.
We all breathe in some fashion. And eat.
Protozoa, echinoderms, annelids, mollusks, arthropods, crustaceans, arachnids, insects, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals.
Welcome to the club.
~*~
For your own copy of my animal nature poems, click here.
The prose-poem presents a subtle challenge. In theory, it should be a natural fit for the English language. In practice, however, what I see all too often is simply wordy prose. Somewhere, the poetry gets trapped or tangled or loses its spin.
Coming across a guideline to keep a prose-poem under a hundred words spurred my thinking. As I considered revising a clutch of drafted poems, a sensed an opportunity. Recast without line breaks, they flew – especially when I removed the punctuation that pushed them toward prose.
I’m satisfied with the results, which I feel are more powerful and vibrant and authentic than either a straight-prose or straight-verse version would present.
Take a look for yourself. Just click here.
~*~
