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Dream Home Haikus
By Audrey Schwartzberg
As a little girl
I always wanted a house
With a turret room
Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’
Poetry: All Hallows’ Tale
All Hallows’ Tale
(“Quoth the Raven”…Boo!)
Hark, lights sift through shifting windows,
Peeking, speaking
To moss-grown, sleeping sepulchers, creaking,
Whose tombs then quake, raising spirits that caper,
As candlelight proceeds to taper,
Phantasms fly from moldy beds,
Faces frozen in rictus dread…
They know…
Poem: Autumn Dance
Autumn Dance
Chilled breezes, like icy satin, awaken me from the vagaries,
That muddle one’s thoughts as sleep approaches.
Pungent aroma of smoky air drifting across sills, startles.
Poem: Eye of the Loon
Eye of the Loon
From the Miocene, thirty seven million years of primal memory
Tell me, that I am survival.
Convergent from strong gulls, hesperornithes, grebes,…
Black, white and gray, I am. Red-eyed Gavia, I am.
Densely-boned Great Northern diver, I am.
Poem: Musing
MusingMeandering in my mind, musing…
Sibilance of waves wash gently, peacefully,
Realizing I need no more than this,
I count the wonders and blessings before me…
Poem: Wake To It
Wake To It
Quicksilver lives, like glistening waves,
Unrelentingly forming, cresting, diminishing, receding,
Like notes on an ever-moving scale,
On ever-turning pages, speeding faster than light,
Billowing above the beckoning forest canopy,
To the lacrimal sounds of searching loons.
Poem: My Walden
My Walden
To find a pure place, an oasis in life,
Limited neither by earthly boundaries nor spiritual ones,
Nor time, worry, want or discord…is to find paradise.
Such a place of all-encompassing beauty,
Will light every mortal sense afire in birth of inspiration,
Of new sight, of loftier goals, and in ultimate understanding
Of mysteries that were heretofore inscrutable.
Poem: All Points
All Points
All points coalesce in this place.
Eyes that have seen much,
Reflect pure sunlight on dazzling water.
Misnomer: Stoney Creek (a poem)
With clear blue skies and a gentle wind
We paddled on Stoney Creek
The banks aligned with tall swamp maples spread their trunks as if they were elms
Paddling upstream to Little Stoney Pond with tall grasses along the banks— topped with light purple plumes
But there was nary a stone in sight
Poem: Inlet
Adirondacks nestle the tiny town of Inlet.
All around it is a history
Of logging, hunting, boating, pioneering,
Settling, surviving and staying.
Poem: Upon The North Wind
Fresh breezes cross the light-dappled lake,
Clearing cobwebs and cicatrixes in its wake.
The old red Camp clock spins backward.
Zephyrs of air sweep old ghosts
Above the lapping waves to sweet release.
Soon, curlicues of cumulus clouds drift in,
Rolling across water like boats and angels.
A distant loon’s trailing trill heralds new rain.
All around, mountains reassure us, saying,
“Nothing changes in this place,
Except the generations.
Here, pines purify man’s pestilence,
Tall trees renew, protect, promise.
Here, you are linked to your origins, welcomed,
And made whole once more”
Nurturing forest spirits, forever wild,
Bear kind witness to the fragile dreams of men,
And here,upon the wings of the North Wind itself,
Hopes fly free.
Poem: Ride With Me
Ride With Me
Ride with me,
South to North.
Highways are the arteries
Of America,
Pumping its heartblood.
Trains chug, trucks rule roads.
Metamorphosis,
As palms become pines,
“A”s become broader.
Sun becomes smokestacks,
Still,
We are all the same
In our deepest recesses,
Changed, but surviving still.
Natural beauty endures,
In this precious moment,
Transcending differences.
Seeing it again, after so long,
I am renewed,
And the journey continues,
Tiptoeing toward freedom, normalcy,
Tiptoeing,
One step, one mile, at a time.
An ode to an Elder Tree
Editor’s note: Adirondack Explorer board member Charlotte Hall wrote this poem about Tree 103. Believed to be one of the tallest trees in the state, Tree 103 toppled in December 2021 after spending its life as part of a group of giant white pines known as “Elder’s Grove,” near Paul Smith’s College’s Visitor Information Center (VIC).
Charlotte (pictured here with her husband, Bob) read “Elder Tree” on a tour of the Elder Grove during Paul Smiths VIC’s Big Tree Festival in May. Click here to watch Charlotte reading her poem
A butterfly, a poem
Author’s note: My husband & I rescued some milkweed plants from a store dumpster and raised some Monarch butterflies from the Monarch caterpillars on them. The metamorphoses was amazing. Hope we did some good for the world. Made me think that butterflies and poets are much alike in their creative process and hence, this poem.
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Latest News Headlines
- Can art encourage stewardship of North Country waters?
- Opinion: Climate Doomism Disregards the Science
- Indian Lake's challenge to raise and release butterflies
- Fall color unfolding across the Adirondacks
- Fall paddle on the Oswegatchie
- Exploring a quiet side of the park
- Bionique testing lab proposes to triple in size
- The Beekeepers Who Don’t Want You to Buy More Bees
- PHOTOS: The 50th annual Adirondack Balloon Festival
- Stefanik demands plan to keep Amtrak Adirondack Line operational
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Poem: Who unmade the world?
A Mary Oliver poem begins “Who made the world?” and ends with the line “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I wrote this poem in conversation with hers to express the complicated grief that comes with feeling the destruction of the wild, with seeing wild spaces within and without trampled and tamed.
It is meant to acknowledge that despair, while also reframing Oliver’s central question as a collective endeavor: What can we each do for wild places?
My poem, “The Last Place,” was published in the Explorer’s Club Spring Log.
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