Spring Again

Spring Again

Next week it will be Spring
again
the crocus and daffodils that waited beside the
tulips
for the slanting sun rays to warm the earth
will bloom
and dull winter birds will put on their best feathers
looking
for mates and building nests, never doubting miracles
like hope

waltmarie poetic form

And I Smiled

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The Friday form challenge over at Poetic Asides is –

Strambotto Poems

“Some of these forms are older than others, and the strambotto traces back to the 13th century. This Italian form known as ottava siciliana (Sicilian octave) or strambotto popolare was the preferred form in Southern Italy, while strambotto toscano was more popular in Tuscany [hat tip to Edward Hirsch’s A Poet’s Glossary]. Today strambotto toscano is known as ottava rima.”

The basic rules for strambotto:

Octave (8-line) poems or stanzas
Hendecasyllabic (or 11-syllable) lines
Rhyme scheme: abababab
Alternate version: There’s also a six-line variant form (still called strambotto) with hendecasyllabic lines and an ababab rhyme scheme.
Here is my attempt (and a picture of that crocus)

And I Smiled

 

I found a yellow crocus blooming today
amid the detritus of a season gone.
Its slender green and white leaves finding a way
through fallen leaves and bits of bark. It was drawn
by Spring’s silent signals and the Sun’s warm rays.
Tightly curled buds, the color of a new fawn,
unfurl to show off in golden, flouncy play
as a milder wind makes them dance in my lawn

The Snowman

Poetic Asides -Wednesday Poetry Prompt – Spring

The Snowman

She built a snowman
On the first day of Spring
Festooned it with a garland

Of frozen daffodils
A line of limp crocus
Buttons marched

Down its rounded belly
A wreath of apple buds
Circled its snowy head

We got about 8” of wet snow – schools were cancelled, the art museum closed – perfect conditions for snowman building.

Spring Snowstorm

d’Verse Poets Pub – Meet the Bar with impressionism
Bjorn has challenged us to write as an impressionist would paint.
~

Spring Snowstorm

snow
heavy, wet
covers every bare branch
until just a hint of red maple buds
catch the sun’s rays
every shrub, a shapeless mound
the pale gray sky blends into the
featureless landscape where
the booted tracks of a child
create random patterns
of shadow across my yard