Bad Poetry Abounds! It Must be the Season.



Winter on the Arkansas River

 

© 2013 SE Hudnall

 

 

 

Tell Me When the Dogwoods Bloom

Tell me when the dogwoods bloom

And the violets peak out from under their leaves.

I know the wild plums have come and gone

And I missed them.

Let me know when the azaleas come out.

White, pink, orange or red.

I don’t care which ones come first.

Oh, do say when the wisteria hangs thick and fragrant

Straining heavy on the vine.

Winter’s beauty is in ice and crystal

A thousand colors bound in one.

I won’t deny its beauty.

And I love it for its silence and earthbound light.

Yet it’s started to fade to gray by now

And the cold has sapped my heart

So please . . .

I don’t care about the tulips

And roses don’t mean much to me.

But do tell me when the dogwood blooms

It’s the dogwood I want to see.

 

A Winter-Spring Trilogy

I.

In between now

And then the slumbering earth breathes

Winter, winter, spring.

II.

Can’t tell which one will be the last snowflake. Perhaps this one? No. That one!

III.

Ephemeral they

Said as snowflakes little liars

Not so this winter.

 

Pranksters in the Churchyard

Giggling beneath

The unswept leaves of autumn
Violets gather

Imitating melting snow

Joke’s on them. I saw. Did you?