Patient Spring

Lovers dangle barefoot

brevity against the water’s kiss,

the ripples like wishes

in bottles, SOS and MIA

where snow dawns in itinerant icebergs

lain bare and broken on the shore.

His hands in her hair,

the wind knows not the blooming

of petals-in-flight

–it is a patient spring.

It’s a special One Shot, my friends and fellow poets.

Yesterday, One Stop Poetry won the Shorty Awards prize – Twitter’s equivalent of the Oscars – for art. It is an honor all of you helped us achieve, and one that legitimizes all we have done, and all we hope to do in the future. Be sure to send your warm regards and your congratulations to my fellow One Stop team members: Adam Dustus, Leslie Moon, Brian Miller, Pete Marshall, Claudia Schönfeld, Gay Cannon and Jessica Kristie, for all they have done. They’ll appreciate it, I assure you!

Art is important to all of us, and we hope to aid our fellow artists in the pursuit of their love. This is just another stepping stone in the realization of that dream. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for One Stop!

The Season of Letters

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day; spring is near at hand, and the mail is beginning to stir…

Image care of Photobucket.

Spring flowers in bloom

Hope rides letters on the wind—

Rejection season.

That’s right ladies and gents, the season of rejection letters is beginning. Just got another gem of one today. Personally, I like to store them up, in that oh-so-classy of ways, so I can look back on them with a smile if and when I actually do get published. Meanwhile: c’est la vie. What do you do with your rejection letters?

Fake Spring

Last week, if you weren’t aware, we here in Michigan experience a little phenomenon we like to call “Fake Spring.” It wouldn’t say it’s commonplace, but it happens often enough that while we are still terribly confused by its appearance, I doubt there’s anyone out there really protesting at this point.

So what is fake spring you might ask? Fake spring is when you have fine, snow-laden winter going on around you, complete with bitter wind chills, hordes of Ugg boots, and North Face jackets, when all of a sudden Michigan decides that all this snow’s gotten a little boring, and all of a sudden the sun break through the clouds, the birds circle and chirp, and all that snow recedes into wet, gloppy pools of thick brown mud.

Suddenly, there is grass again. Bikes make a tremendous resurgence. Coats depart and the crazies (we call them residents) start walking around in short-shorts and flip-flops again. Good times, really.

Of course that strange little bizarro world you’ve entered comes to an end. It ended this Sunday, in fact, when after all that snow had melted, Michigan let loose a maddened giggle, and dumped us with another 7 inches of the white stuff. Yes, it is a strange place I live in. One with a sick sense of humor I might add.

But life goes on, snow or no, and those same crazies in their short-shorts and flip flops return to ice-driving, barreling down the ice-laden stretches without concern to speed or silly little things like…reason, AKA traction. Then, we all cry a little inside.

Hope you’ve enjoyed a few of the pics I took while out and about enjoying that Fake Spring. All are from the Lansing River Trail, a local favorite of mine. These pictures were taken on the first day of Fake Spring, before all the snow had its chance to melt – but as you can see, the river was a lot less icy than it was a couple weeks ago.

Fifty degree weather in the midst of February – to some, apparently, a fact that means “Let’s go kayaking!”

And then, of course, there’s this…

Tasteful advertising at its best!

Visions of Yester-Year

Photo by: Sean McCormick.

 

We laid the foundation of our hearts

And spread beneath an open sky

Where neither walls nor whims

Knew limitation to licentious surrealism;

The clouds, like little rabbits framed

Running through the soul,

Stood as libation

In silent spring.

 

Weeds rack the roots,

No resurgence in the recalcitrant puberty,

Midst rustled horses and wrangled roses,

What saw us raise our heads to dream;

The foundation remains, regal rock

Walking beneath the sunlight

Where crumbled walls cracked

To visions of yester-year.

* My submission to part two of a special edition the One Shoot Sunday Photo Prompt, with that breathtaking frame shot provided by one Sean McCormick, a Canadian Photographer that is the focus of my latest interviews for One Stop. Great guy, with some truly stunning nature photography…it absolutely breathes with life, history, and all the shadows of memories gone before. Have a look when you get the chance, and check out all the other poets inspired by the prompt!

Haiku

Beaumont Tower, MSU; by Chris Galford.

Woke this morning with thoughts of Winter playing in my head – and a sheen of ice outside my window that stretched from home to street and all the roads beyond. Reflecting on the beauty of the colorful Spring past, this little thing popped into my head:

Waiting to dream life

Color sleeps beneath the snow;

Wilts, but never dies.

Of Spring

In honor of the now fully arrived Spring here in Michigan (70s in April? This is a miracle for us), a poem about this beautiful season. I can only hope everyone around me is enjoying the day as well, given all the booze that’s already starting to flow. Final Four Championship today–this place shall be a madhouse. Nevertheless, I give my obligatory shout-out to my fellow Spartans: Go Green!

Anyhow, this poem was composed back in High School, during one of my major poetry bouts:

Spring

Look now the snow is fading,

The grape vines now are creeping

And the frogs once more are leaping.

Flowers reach out for the light-

They had put up quite a fight,

Surviving all the winter fright!

Watch the little children playing-

Lovers on the green grass laying

Death’s dark power now decaying.

The sun’s bright light is beaming,

And the choirs take up singing,

As the Poets start their dreaming-

Dreaming of the days long past-

Spring is here at last!