Monday, April 04, 2016

As Gardeners Look For Flowers

Bee Pollinating Collards
—Photos of Lutheran Church of the Redeemer
Community Garden, Sacramento, CA,
by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

—Tom Goff, Carmichael, CA

I look for you as gardeners look for flowers,
awaiting what they’re sure is due reward.
Even the sunrise drags upon the hours.

All April mornings labor as do mowers
and plowers thoughtless, leveling the greensward.
I look for you as gardeners look for flowers,

think my long nurturing of you now endowers
my life with some return, as from a young ward.
Even the sunrise drags upon the hours,

even that of the dearest daybreak’s loving glowers,
warmer than normal Aprils are daystarred.
I’ve looked for you as gardeners look for flowers,

looked till my eyes ached from unending scours
through lupine, poppy, ivy, rainbow chard.
So heavy did sunrise drag upon the hours,

I’d rather this afternoon fell to the showers,
all verdant things rain-sickled, ripe to discard.
No more will I, garden, look for my flower of flowers.
Now every sunrise drags upon the hours.  

—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento, CA

All day long the brilliant sun
   sought the bark of trees,
      sought the shiny leaf.

All day long the clever sun
   chased the lively squirrel
      across the clovered lawn.

When evening finally came
   the squirrel had finally gone,
      the leaf became a dull and
                              sleepy leaf.

—Carol Louise Moon

Easter time, we see the sheep
in meadows green as spring draws nigh;
even in winter's chill so deep—
identified in one's keen eye
on wint'ry mesas far and high. 

—Carol Louise Moon

Spring had spread herself thin
this year of drought—tiny sidewalk violets
not meeting their potential.

Nature has her way of dealing
with disappointment. Volunteer weeds
have popped up in between bricks,
tipping the scales of justice.

—Carol Louise Moon

Where are sweet peas
for us to pick this early spring?
There are sweet peas,
pink and fragrant, in the eaves
of my memory; another thing
to find a place to pluck and bring
home real sweet peas.

—Caschwa, Sacramento

The consummate, compleate
If you need something done
Give it to Doris

She already knows all the
Rules and protocols
Whom to ask about what
Super organized

Maintains lists and charts
Like the scientific method
So a good result can be
Obtained again

But Doris is face blind
Missing that brain link
That would tell her
A name for an image

Say hello to Doris
She will answer with
Generic pleasantries
Avoiding your name

She fakes it splendidly
Forget the face
She knows your hair
And your walk

Immersed in multitasking
She will not even look up
And you’re not sure
She heard you

Now Doris has Alzheimer’s
The multitasking is history
The verbal intercourse
Remains the same

She heard you
And you’re not sure
She will not even look up
Avoiding your name

Generic pleasantries
She will answer with
Say hello to Doris 

   Patty Duke should have written poetry instead of her book, A Brilliant Madness, in 1997
   How else can one prove one is “brilliantly mad” than to write poetry?
   Consider “mad” female poetry writers such as Silvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Virginia Woolf—
   their works are heralded as genius for writers today to still emulate  
   Notice how nobody ever quotes from Patty Duke’s book
   that shortly ended up on store clearance racks after publication,
   while the three “mad” female poets I listed died of their suicides at ages younger than Patty Duke,
   but their words will still remain “immortal” in our society
   and not food for cheap tabloids 
   Perhaps one also truly cannot describe mental “madness” without using poetry
   and the empathy expressed which poetry gives is probably what makes people care about the cases of mental illness

   —Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA


—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA

Coyote liked April:
Could let his old
Tangles go a bit, drop
Those crusties
Between the toes,

Lose that shaggy
Brown coat a little.
Even look sleek.
People might
Even like him.

Coyote, always
The dreamer.

Today’s LittleNip:

blue sky/ blue-green tree,
puffy clouds behind/ spruce wears
pioneer bonnet

—Carol Louise Moon


Many thanks to today’s fine mix of poets celebrating April, and a reminder to scroll down to our blue box on the right (below the green box) for what’s happening this week in NorCal poetry, including Danyen Powell and Beth Suter tonight at Sac. Poetry Center; an open mic in S. Lake Tahoe at Keynote Used Records and Books on Weds.; Alan Williamson, Paul Breslin and Jeanne Foster at Poetry in Davis; and a mighty fine Local Author Festival at the Central Library on Sunday showcasing many local authors, including our poet Staajabu to celebrate her book,
Mud Cloth Roots—plus there’s always Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Café on Thursday, and whatever else may pop up along the way.