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Sweet Gum Balls

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Sweet Gum Balls

There on the ground,
abundant and free,
small spiky balls,
gifts of the tree.

Like porcupine eggs,
or a wee knight’s flail,
they’re perfect for making
your enemies wail!

They’re not really gum,
but they are a sweet find.
I stuff them in my pocket,
then change my mind.

 

I did actually put one in my pocket to bring home. That’s how I got the idea for this poem. Usually I write the first line first, but this time I started at the end.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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On Rainy Days

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On Rainy Days

The grass looks greener.
The bark looks darker.
The trees’ spring leaves stretch and glow.
The daffodils don’t mind in their bright yellow hats.
The maples apply a deeper shade of crimson to their buds.
The purple hyacinths color themselves with crayon
Then watch the water run down their curls.
The pink cherry blossoms, arriving late, blush to discover
No one else has worn a dress.
On rainy days the sky offers nothing but gray,
But everyone else does their best.

 

The deer couldn’t get to the hyacinths in the back. They’re protected by the wall.

Happy Day 7 of National Poetry Month.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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Garden Thieves

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Garden Thieves

They come in the night
when I can’t see.
I know they do.
They leave clues for me:

Hyacinth crumbs,
ragged leaves.
Evidence of
garden thieves.

Small round droppings
give them away.
White-tailed deer
have come this way.

I wish I could see them
grazing in my yard.
Silent and wild,
visitors on guard.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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The Wall

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The Wall

I have a wall
that’s sturdy and tall
and admirably persistent.

When we play ball,
it returns them all.
It’s remarkably consistent.

 

It sure is challenging to sneak in a poem on a Saturday.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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The Big Rock Speaks

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The Big Rock Speaks

Come.
Sit with me.
Give your legs
a rest.
Put down your bags
and arms.
Let your breathing
slow.
Sit.
I will share my spot
and my stillness.
Stay
and you will see things.
Squirrels will scamper
across your legs.
Birds will perch on your shoulders
and sing.
Ferns will unfurl.
Mushrooms will explode
with spores.
The light will change.
When you are ready
climb on my head
and see the world again.
Imagine you’re a giant.
Jump down.
Grab your bags.
Skip along the path.
Leave me here
to watch.

 

I think I should confess that I am using the term backyard rather loosely. This big rock isn’t in my actual backyard. It’s down the street along a trail that runs through the park. I’m so lucky to live within walking distance of the woods and a subway station. I wonder how far I’ll need to go to find my 30 treasures.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Amy at The Poem Farm.

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Earth and Sky

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Earth and Sky

Two twig men went walking by.
They tripped and fell but didn’t cry.
The sky was blue, the ground was dry,
So they stayed to watch the cloud men fly.

Two cloud men were flying low.
They saw two twig men down below.
They wanted to stop and say hello,
But the wind said no, so they had to go.

 

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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Message on a Log

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Message on a Log

Someone’s left a message here,
a swirling, curling missive, clear
in the flesh of this log.

They’ve stripped away the gnarled bark.
They’ve used a blade to leave their mark
in letters I can’t read.

Like hieroglyphs from ancient lands,
or characters by distant hands.
I wonder what it says.

Perhaps it tells where treasure lies.
Perhaps it warns that someone dies.
Or maybe all it says is:
                                     “I was here.”

 

They are probably not so good for the tree, but I do love the beautiful squiggles that beetle larvae leave on wood as they eat their way underneath the bark.

Happy Day 2 of National Poetry Month.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved.

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National Poetry Month–30 Days, 30 Treasures

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This year I will be celebrating National Poetry Month by writing a poem a day about a “Backyard Treasure.” Every day I will go for a walk, take a picture of a treasure I find, and then, write a poem about it. These won’t be polished poems. They will be the day’s best draft.

Today’s poem is about the daffodils blooming in my yard.

 

Dear Daffodil

Thank you for raising
your head in the rain.
Thank you for sounding
your silent fanfare.
Thank you for daring
to wear your bright yellow bonnet
to this endless gathering of mourners.
Thank you for huddling
in clumps like ducklings
chirruping in chorus—
 “Soon we can swim!”
  “Soon we can swim!”
Thank you, dear daffodil,
for coming every spring.

 

Happy first day of National Poetry Month!

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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Haiku Friday

I've been working on a haiku about these seedpods but I don't quite have it. Want to give it a try?

I’ve been working on a haiku about these seedpods but I don’t quite have it.
Want to give it a try?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every so often, I set aside a day, or a few, to write haiku. I love that they require me to slow down and attend to the world around me. Haiku are about our immediate experience of the physical world. They are different from so many other forms because they don’t generally use rhyme or metaphor or other poetic tools. The writer is not supposed to interpret the experience for the reader—just transport the reader, so the reader can have the experience too. In a way the writer is supposed to make herself invisible. But, not really. The writer is, of course, present in the moment she chooses to share and in the way she constructs the experience for the reader. I’m not even sure it’s quite correct to say haiku doesn’t use metaphor—sometimes the metaphor seems to lie in the unstated connection between the two parts of the poem and sometimes the whole poem feels like a metaphor.

My very favorite aspect of haiku is the inference. The reader must infer the meaning, which the writer does not state. It is the unsaid that I find endlessly intriguing.

 
Today I thought I would share some of haiku of mine that have been published recently. Another nice thing about writing haiku is that there are a handful of journals that accept and publish them regularly, so haiku poets have opportunities to share. I highly recommend all of these publications for reading and for submitting. The Heron’s Nest and A Hundred Gourds are available on-line. Frogpond and Acorn are gorgeous, paper journals.

 

icicles…
keeping time
until the end

The Heron’s Nest, Vol. XVI: No. 1, March 2014

 

snow field
the earth marked
by fallen angels

Frogpond, Vol. 36:3, Autumn 2013
Third Place, Harold G Henderson Memorial Award, Haiku Society of America

 

measuring
  the length
    of my solitude
inchworm

A Hundred Gourds, Vol 3:2, March 2014

 

sending ripples
through the clouds…
water strider

Acorn, Fall 2013

 

 

For more Poetry Friday, visit the rogue anthropologist!

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Song and Dance

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Song and Dance

 
Dear Miss,
she seems to say
with her gentle mews.
Dear Miss,
she croons,
as she slips through my legs,
skimming my ankles
with her silken fur.
Dear Miss,
she mews again,
I’ll happily sing and dance
for just a small turn
of the doorknob.

 

This is our beautiful cat, Scout. I don’t really think the name suits her, but we named her after the character in To Kill a Mockingbird before she joined our family. She’s an indoor cat, but she thinks she wants to be a hunter. We love imagining what Scout might say if she could talk. Here’s your mission, should you choose to accept it: Write a poem from an animal’s point of view. What would your pet (or some other animal) say if s/he could speak? And, how would s/he say it?

For more Poetry Friday, visit Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

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