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Poetry

Spring’s a-comin’-in

 

ice on deck

yard a wreck

 

rain stippling lake

birds at seed cake

 

clouds proliferate

mallards rotate

 

my peepers see

fallen tree

 

mud on pants

crazy crow rants

 

wood too wet to split

steady drip tonight

 

spotted salamander crawling

flashlight following


swerving like old ox

 

grackles cawing

insects crawling

 

trees bare

in cool air

 

driveway mucky mud

on windowsill dead ladybug

 

snow dripping from roof

cloudy sky puffy aloof

 

little green sprout

about to come out

 

fancy bulbs struggling

fleet mice scurrying

 

spring lumbering here

taste it in moist air

 


Blizzard-bound in white:

there’s ecstasy in wind-force,

sudden flake in the eye,

nose pinched red by cold,

mourning dove fluttering,

snow-laden fir branches

slowly swaying in gusts,

wind whirling fate,

icy flakes sharp as slate

dangerously accumulate

as I heft another shovel

from fluff-born groundswell,

flakes descending pell-mell….

 


False spring is not my favorite thing,

even though snowbells seem not to mind,

or peepers who sing despite crusted frost,

or birds on the wing looking for nests,

or the household ladybug on kitchen sink

behind which a shrew coyly hides,

evading all three mouse-chomping cats.

 

False spring is like a child’s snapped balloon string,

or a crystal vase crashing to splinters,

or a toy car crushed by crackling winter boot,

or that chugging whine of dead car battery.

It’s a temporary infatuation deflated,

an extra monthly auto payment,

frustration at a lost, important document.

 

Yet false spring will not survive Eastering,

much less the soon joyful daffodil’s flowering...


If that little button in the “football”

was angrily pushed for some island

you don’t even know about, and then all

civilization was transformed to sand—

everything turning radioactive,

even the floor, the act of love’s embrace—

how could one ever possibly forgive

the mind or finger that exploded space,

 

leaving the fate of the whole world’s children

to rot like bleeding rats in a cage?

No one could believe such a crazed story

till it happens and you breathe hydrogen,

and for once in your life your “living” age

becomes irrelevant as a “story.”


by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Mar 28th, 2017

Spring’s a-comin’-in

 

ice on deck

yard a wreck

 

rain stippling lake

birds at seed cake

 

clouds proliferate

mallards rotate

 

my peepers see

fallen tree

 

mud...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Fri Mar 24th, 2017

swerving like old ox

 

grackles cawing

insects crawling

 

trees bare

in cool air

 

driveway mucky mud

on windowsill dead ladybug

 

snow dripping from roof

cloudy sky...

(before Equinox)
by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Wed Mar 15th, 2017

Blizzard-bound in white:

there’s ecstasy in wind-force,

sudden flake in the eye,

nose pinched red by cold,

mourning dove fluttering,

snow-laden fir branches

slowly swaying in gusts,

wind whirling fate,...

for Clifford
by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Mon Mar 6th, 2017

False spring is not my favorite thing,

even though snowbells seem not to mind,

or peepers who sing despite crusted frost,

or birds on the wing looking for nests,

or...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Fri Mar 3rd, 2017

If that little button in the “football”

was angrily pushed for some island

you don’t even know about, and then all

civilization was transformed to sand—

everything turning radioactive,

even...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Fri Feb 24th, 2017

Early signs of spring:

pale tracks of wandering birds

melted to liquid wonder;

aconite sings its lonely solo

song by a red shed;

a waxing increment

of two minutes a...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Feb 21st, 2017

Plato declares all poets are liars

because they use metaphors,

yet Plato himself employs

allegories and metaphors.

 

Businessmen boast of bs profits,

yet such exaggerations are not labeled lies....

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Feb 14th, 2017

Snow melting off roof,

that slow joyous drip

of icicles melting 

on Valentine’s Day

when lovers celebrate reunion

as snow and light unite

to produce the liquid symbol

of love’s...

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