How many times have I climbed this mountain?
How many times sat in the dry leaves at the end of day?
And how many more to come?
Uncountable to me...
There must be a definite number
but to me they are endless.
Endless in number and endless
each in its own day.
I will let the moon in
one voice at a time
where the wind
tears its skin
one voice at a time
They have a lot to say
And they say it all day
Whip up the wind
the moon is finished with them!
Upon a time, once
twice again and again
with the wind
when the moon is finished with them
voices blow out of the voices’ hole
in the wind again with the skin
with the tear in the wind
with the wind against my skin
Mossy rock mossy me
by a little stream
where birds sing
as they bathe
and I pretend
I have feathers
just like them
and splash and fluff
and throw back my head
to sing and to laugh
but at the slightest sign
of alarm they fly off
and I am all alone
silent as a stone
on a mossy rock
Node poem here: http://www.spicynodes.org/a/7d2bb6e5228c163e0f558105ee877522
set up on the nice spongy ground
a ring of stones where a fire goes
strawberries all around
but they are quite now
just as the fire went
when the wind blew
they coat the ground
but their fruit is asleep
deep in their green
an idea in their genes
still none of this
is why day goes
Playing with a non-ordered form. Try to keep the phrases short and open-ended, and open-beginninged, so that each line can be attached to any of the others. Sense the sense in the shift of order.
Mayapples grow as ones and twos.
Wherever they must, whenever they choose.
When they are young they rise as one
over the forest floor on a single stem.
When they ripen and are laden
with fruit and flower the one
I becomes you.
From then on, we bloom together
not as one alone
but as two together
on a single stem.
And between us blooms a flower
neither alone could bloom before
and from us comes a fruit
to seed the forest floor.
Some creative biology here. My myth is May Apples first grow as 'bachelors' then self-separate into a couple which is when they flower and fruit.
Written with love for my dear bride Brittany on the occasion of our marriage, 5-15-15
I also like how center alignment almost turns this into a concrete poem, you can see it as a vase and flower.
Witch-hazel blooms in the winter light
Upon the grey rocky mountains’ height
A lady comes upon it and she weeps to see it bloom
So close to the winter and the snow comes too soon
Witch-hazel bough in this lady’s hair
She hears the owl call from its hidden lair
In the dark where her love’s gone and she must follow soon
Now that the snows covered over the witch-hazel bloom
Witch hazel is one of my favorites plants. It is unique because it flowers in November or December when most other plants are deep in hibernation. Nice to see something bloom out of season, kind of keeps the spirit alive in the dark cold time.