Bleeding Hearts

photo-264

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bleeding Hearts

These broken hearts
with their heavy
drops of blood,
hanging,
ever-ready
to fall,
but never
fall
ing,
beam
birthday party pink,
as if they are laughing
through their tears.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/3 Comments/by
,

Spring Haiku

photo-263

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spring sun
the fence blossoms
with coats

 

spring surprise
      it’s snowing
           soft pink petals

 

rock collecting
I pocket a smooth black egg
with stripes of magic

 

It’s National Haiku Day so of course I wanted to write and post a few haiku. Perhaps you’re wondering how the photo connects to the poems. Whenever I go for walks, I take pictures of anything that catches my eye. Later, if I’m not sure what to write about, I look at my photos for inspiration.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/15 Comments/by
,

Robin’s Song

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robin’s Song

Cheer-i-ly! Cheer-i-ly! Cheer-i-ly!
Hear me sing? To the sky? From the tree?
Every day, I greet the sun.
Every day, skipping none.
Rising first,
I sing my song
Lifting
You.

 
Today I wanted to write a simpler poem. Did you notice that it’s an acrostic poem?

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/7 Comments/by

The Moon Speaks of the Eclipse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Moon Speaks of the Eclipse

 

I do not feel myself tonight.
Though you should see me full and bright,
I offer dim and rusty light.

My shine is dulled by Earth’s great bite:
She casts a shade across my height,
Blocking the sun, my sole delight.

It isn’t right. It’s not polite
To pass in front and steal my might,
Then stay too far away to fight.

My bloodshot eye glares through the night.
I hope it sparks a little fright,
For I do not feel myself tonight.

 

My view of the moon was not so clear last night but I was up around 3 am and saw the Earth take a bite of the moon.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/4 Comments/by

Silence

photo-257

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no silence
in the spring.
Birds sing.
Children slam open doors
and tumble outside
in the blinding sunshine.
Men and women scrape lawn chairs
across concrete patios.
Neighbors speak
from stoop to stoop.
Baseballs smack the palms
of stiff leather gloves.
Dogs bark.
Babies squeal.
Bees buzz.
Walk anywhere you like,
follow abandoned alleys
to quieter corners,
you will not find silence.
Silence (or did you forget?)
is the sound of snow.

 

This poem is my response to the current, and lovely, cacophony in my back yard and also to The Art Assignment #5. The Art Assignment is a video series co-produced by John and Sarah Urist Green and PBS. Each episode Sarah interviews a working artist who then provides an assignment. This time Jace Clayton asked anyone who’s interested to find their quietest place. I so appreciated his suggestion that we walk and follow our ears. It felt so good to give more attention to a sense other than sight. What I discovered as I walked around my neighborhood was that I couldn’t really find quiet. I could get farther away from busy streets but then I became aware of other sounds–birds, electronic equipment, people. The quietest place I could find was my garage. With all this in mind, I wrote this poem. 

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/3 Comments/by
, ,

Cherry Blossoms

photo-256
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lose my pen
among the petals…
cherry blossoms

 

How foolish it is to try to write a haiku about cherry blossoms, but how can one resist?

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/5 Comments/by
,

Who?

IMG_4721

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who?

Who was here?
Who came by
last night
and did all this?
Who ordered
the spring green carpet
littered with
yellow polka dots?
Who rolled it out
as far as I can see?
Who carpeted
the forest floor
all along the corridor
between the stream
and the wall of trees?

 

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/2 Comments/by
,

Violets

photo-251

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Violets

Among the common blades of grass
a wink of purple
a tease
to draw you towards
the violet’s
bearded monkey face
gaping at the sun.
They grew by my grandmother’s front door
which even strangers never thought to use.
My grandmother died.
They sold her house.
But here beneath my feet
a violet winks
and I am back
beside her canvas shoes
stooping
for a closer look.

 

Happy 11th Day of National Poetry Month! That means it is also day 11 of my backyard treasures project. This week I wrote about: a wall, hyacinth crumbs, the rain, a sweet gum ball, half an empty hickory shell, the color green, and violets.

For more Poetry Friday visit Michelle’s blog birthday bash at Today’s Little Ditty.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/13 Comments/by
,

Green

sunflower-pre-bloom
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Green

Green is grass.
Green is leaves.
Green is growing
under the sun
elbowing the earth,
pushing it aside
stretching, reaching
with open hands.
Green is calling you
to lie in the grass
under a firmament of leaves
and breathe.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/5 Comments/by

Building a Fairy House

photo-247

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Building a Fairy House

If I fashion a cottage with sticks and with leaves,
If I pin tulip petals under the eaves,
If I roll out a carpet of fresh emerald moss,
If I set out an armchair of fine milkweed floss,
If I lay a stone table with hickory shells,
If I finish the doorway with lavender bells,
Will you come? Will you stay?
Will you ask me to play?

 

This poem started with a hickory shell and a memory of building fairy houses with my daughter one summer when we were visiting friends in Vermont. We were told that if you build a fairy house, fairies will come live in it.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

/10 Comments/by