Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Sunday, April 5, 2020

Poetry: For Marion Higley

For Marion Higley

Light-filled woman, she,
College-taught and Bishop’s wife,
Baptized on a worn, porcelain-metal table
In a plank house on the edge of pine woods.
Woman of tenderness, she,
Washing sand from the sun-warmed limbs of
Three fair daughters and a wheaten-haired baby son,
With hand-pumped well-water in a porcelain sink-basin,
While scented sun motes danced around their heads,
And laughter floated out across the rippling lake.

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Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Poetry: Changes

Changes

Broken by brief rain
dull heat disappears
tail between its clouds
I recall late-August
mornings as a child
dressing by the fire
Oatmeal bubbled thick
in big blackened pot
Mountains unmoved
since we went to bed
Clouds now crest them
heavily like a toddler
riding your shoulders

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, March 21, 2020

Poetry: A Child With You

 

A Child With You

Like smudge
marks from
burnt sage

You arrived
at the moment I
needed to touch your

Golden hair
and peach
white belly

Rolling in the mud
by the oak trees

I am
a child with you

Oshkosh B’gosh
overalls and eyelashes

raised like
prayer flags

at the one act of mercy,
we all know
never happens

the way it
is supposed to

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, March 14, 2020

Poetry: Aging Vet

Aging Vet

Frayed old Army field
jacket keeps light rain
off my slim notebook
An aging vet, I’m like
a monk to desire with
only poems to show
Deerfly at 10 o’clock!
Mind pulls up to lose it
but instead the poem
veers off abruptly as
last winter’s ski crowd
beat their hasty retreat

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, March 7, 2020

Poetry: Not So Long Ago

 

Not So Long Ago

Half down the paved road
Husky sled dogs crackled
to chorus dinner time
Can openers slice
150 Alpo can tops
Fellow blackfly-buzzed
berserker mammals

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 29, 2020

Poetry: Awakening

Awakening

Secret snows lulled the latent landscape,
A hush of ice, like frosted silver quartz,
Grew gently over the lake, sealing it safely,
While silent evergreens watched, and waited,
Because they knew, and they believed.
In a longer minute, warming winds whispered
Across this virginal canvas, painting strokes of green,
Smidges and smudges of tender shoots and blades,
Into a laced latticework, upon its expectant shores.
Because they knew, and they also believed.
At once, molten, crystal rivulets began to weave and weft,
Down slumbering white-capped peaks,
Tumbling and crashing into the mighty, mother Hudson.
The North Country awakened to its living Spring, afresh,
Because it knew, and always believed.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 22, 2020

Nature, the Other, the Big Outside (In Memory of Howard Zahniser)

Nature, the Other, the Big Outside
In Memory of Howard Zahniser

Okay, now don’t look me square in the eye
but watch my ears wiggle — you see him there,
my father, your grandfather, a wise guy
(who was also a wise-guy), taught me to stare
at nothing hard enough to make my ears move.
It’s a great skill if like me you can’t dance
but still feel the need to strut some and groove
dressed not in Nordstrum slacks but Goodwill pants.

Okay, open that window there — yes, wide.
What’s out there is everything that’s not you.
Sure, nature—the other, the big outside,
what redeems you, where you go to renew
yourself, learn to listen, maybe make vows.
Smell that? Not fire and brimstone — balsam boughs.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 15, 2020

Poetry: Deer Sleep

Deer Sleep

My three-year-old son
wondered where deer sleep,
so I walked him there. Stepping
into a realm that is not reserved
for fathers and sons, we found
a ritual that has nothing to do
with us. That lost part of the brain
where the Moon barely creeps in.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 8, 2020

Poetry: Iniquity

Iniquity

So many snows ago.
Deer-tracks marked a journey,
Tear-tracks marked a journey,
As train-tracks grew cold, collected rust, and families
Moved away, never to return.
Too hard to forage, for man and beast alike.
So came this fight for survival, dictated more and more
By the dollar, Almighty Dollar,
Killing life, killing jobs, killing hope,
Pandering for spoils, preying on the innocent,
Robbing the future.
Northern Lights,
How you still explode the sky to silhouette the beauty
Of these mountains,
The power,
With North Star guiding ever true.
We cry to see your light dimmed by such vast iniquity,
Illuminating once-fertile bowers, callously raided.
Helplessly, we stand in the rough-shod, abandoned tracks
Of our forbears,
To inherit an ominous fruition.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 1, 2020

Poetry: Stars Long Dead

Stars Long Dead

How hard this now seems
to leave so few memories
Who will reckon us up
once we’ve finished here
Stars stud the sky but pay
no mind to who’s elected
Many looking bright flared
out last lights eons gone at
186,000 miles per second
as the universe’s vastness
makes them seem to shine
still to astonish us tonight

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, January 18, 2020

Poetry: Winter Dreams

Winter Dreams

I am so far away from you now, so far South,
Wondering how heavily laden your boughs are,
Wondering how your myriad of trout and bass swim
Under the thick lake ice, dotted with ice-fishermen.
No, I’m not with you in the harshness of winter,
But I am with you always, in my spirit.
I imagine the Currier and Ives quaintness of Inlet,
Of Old Forge’s magical hardware emporium,
I see hardy families sitting down, together, to the steaming food
That sustains them throughout bitter days and nights.
I see flickering, amber light, dancing from every frosted window,
As piquant scents of gray wood-smoke curl bravely
From weathered, creosote-tarred chimneys.
I see the deep ‘crow’s-foot’ crosshatching of snowmobile tracks,
Etched on streets, dirt paths and two-lane roads that blend together
Like lovers.
And then, at last, I hear the slow, sonorous breath of the deep woods,
Sleeping beneath nature’s coverlet of pristine, eider-down.
All this, all this, and so much more,
Is in my winter dreams of you, little Camp of my heart.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, January 11, 2020

Poetry: Littered With Salvation

Littered With Salvation

A flask-shaped bald head
olive-black eyes. Short chestnut
brown eyebrows. Oshkosh B’gosh
overalls and an ultraviolet purple
sleeved shirt. Like small dolls
patched with the materials of a day’s harvest
sinking into the earth
into a wormhole of foliage, laughing at nothing
but the act of knowing that sometimes it’s common
and good to laugh at nothing. We played
unconcealed. Outside. Submerged in
winding branches and brittle, lifeless leaves
laying on a basket filled with the fluorescence of eggs.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, January 4, 2020

Poetry: Caught Between the Hours

Caught Between the Hours

Have you looked up
at the stars lately?

Have you watched the Moon bow
or gulp light from her holy grail?

Have you howled at her?
The sky mother. Oozing

through the gate, a vaporous,
sweet olive black night

in the distance, a coyote yelping


Saturday, December 28, 2019

Poetry: Self-Portrait as a Wolf (For Donald Hall)

Self-Portrait as a Wolf
(For Donald Hall)

Once I served
my species proudly

by eating the
sickness of prey.

Now, driven from
the Adirondacks

I am the one
endangered. Spotted.

My sharp muzzle
sprinkled with dense,

black yellowish-white
underfur

turned into pelts
for unborn bones

on Christmas eve.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, December 21, 2019

Poetry: Light Rising

Light Rising

Ancient woods nestle softly,
Beneath their down of glistening snow.
Imperceptibly, the Adirondack Dome rises,
The cloaked giant ascends,
Reaching toward the North Star, shining star,
Over millions of years.
Durant’s trains are silenced now,
And the logging camps are dormant.
But the mountains live and the conifers breathe.
Chains of lakes sparkle like glittering molten glass,
Moose River Plains run wild,
Animals forage and the black bear sleeps,
Sheltering, waiting.
Pines dressed in white lacy skirts surround
Wooden Camps glowing warmly from within.
This is the season of peace,
Of hope, of continuity, of life cherished,
Of expectancy,
Of renewal by a blessed light rising,
Making all one,
As it has always done.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.