MAP
#73
Theme:
Spring
1.
Sanjay C Kuttan writes: "In Singapore we do not have springtime
but here is a poem for consideration that has its elements; elements
of life shared around the world but in different expressions with
different significance and influences in a different place and time."
Predictably
Predictably
the
rain falls,
rattling
zinc awnings,
wetting
the living soil,
quenching
a thirsty world.
predictably
the
sun rises,
purifying
the unpurged air,
lifting
dew into heaven,
enlightening
an innocent world.
predictably
butterflies
hover round flowers in bloom,
sucking
nectar, pollinating,
creating
a colorful world.
predictably
leaves
quiver in the cool zephyr.
Branches
reach out caressing each other,
nourishing
a fertile world.
predictably
my
eyes awaken from this dream world
to
see the sun in the west,
upright
trees
laid
down to rest,
colored
petals in the dust,
the
flooding rain drowning portraits of desecrating lust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2.
From Chuck Rice of Coral Springs, Florida:
Spring
Timeless,
I
know you(me)now,
I
can feel you inside me
touchless,
your green
searching
fingers.
Coalesce
with me, absorb me
lose
me in your
omnipotent
spontaneity.
My
ear sunward, below
the
dusty scratching roots
I
heard the thunder
of
thousand voices- rain
as
you ran through(me)the fields.
Silent,
with dirt in my eyes
from
beneath
the
stretched bloody roots
I
watched you
raise
your hand
across
burning meadows
heard
stamens
whisper
to thistledown, “nnnow...”
I
felt mountains breathe,
yet
your voice
half
robin/half wind
half
silence
could
not find my ears
for
the flowers
you
held bleeding
freshly
picked at your side,
I
heard only their screams.
Chuck
Rice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.
Next poem is by Howard Frost of Wakefield, England - taken from his
chapbook, Between Heaven and Undercliffe and Lister's Mill
March
Already
willows on the river banks glow greenish-yellow,
Pale
pre-leaf flush denoting rising sap
And
here and there, the earliest daffodils
Rock
in a brisk North wind.
In
gardens, crocuses rear brash coloured heads aloft,
Whilst
shy primulas lurk quietly
In
damp and shady corners, showing
Sly
flowers to a waiting world.
Out
on the hillside, where dead grass shows brown,
The
discerning few know that green growth
Already
springs from each tussock base
To
await the weaning of the lambs.
And
day by day, whether we notice it or not,
The
Sun rises earlier and sets later,
So
that, although we may have fog or snow,
The
Spring is almost here.
©
1998 Howard Frost
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4.
Next, a poem by Ted Reilly of Geelong, Australia, where they be
having autumn right about now. I took this poem from Ted's
manuscript, The Camden Poems.
Then
Silver-tipped
green, the trees have gathered cold
Spring's
showers glassing over the duens
And
we argue about the possibility of being pragmatic
About
such matters as can be told,
The
purple geraniums' stockiness, a daisy's
Golden
eye, the likelihood of a hot summer:
We
wait, for what, we are unsure.
Is
there a forgetting of the possibilities,
A
release from the worried particulars
As
seasons hurry towards Advent?
In
the corner plot, I've placed two punnets,
Grosse
Lisse, displacing some rooted Basil,
Thinking
of last Summer's good handfuls:
The
particulars will take care of themselves.
©
1998 Edward Reilly