Category Archives: Green Poetry

April Musings

Tulipa 'Apeldoorn Elite', Hybridized by J.S. Verdegaal, 1968

Tulipa ‘Apeldoorn Elite’, by By Jerzy Opioła, via Wikimedia Commons

April Musings

No rain today, a break
from weeks of showers.
A slight headache.

I could have raked up
alder catkins or
plucked off spent daffodils.

I picked up most
of the twigs
that windstorm tore down.

An orange and yellow
tulip opened. The roses
are shooting out new thorns.

I swept up dog hair and dirt
and wrote a poem,
not a good one,

one without wind,
or dirt, thorns or rain.
It feels of old daffodils

and dogs settled into naps –
a comma for the big dog
and a dash for the terrier.

—Tricia Knoll

 aiawiwi
sieiei
Tricia Knoll has clan in Vermont and follows the ever-so-gradual coming out of snow and snowfest of this late to bloom state. Her garden is full of wildly blooming forsythia, daffodils, hellebore, and the tulips are thinking about it. In summer 2017 her new book, Broadfork Farm, is coming out from The Poetry Box. It salutes life on a small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington.

Now available at Amazon.com from Aldrich Press, Ocean’s Laughter — a book of lyric and eco-poetry about Manzanita, Oregon. Reviews. 

Urban Wild, a poetry chapbook now available from Finishing Line Press
website: triciaknoll.com
* * *

siei

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The Gifts of April

By Lobachev Vladimir, via Wikimedia Commons

Girl with a wreath, by Lobachev Vladamir. Via Wikimedia Commons.

The Gifts

April’s garden fraught with scent,

Spring’s gift until the blooms spent.

The jewels of nature, flora crown,

Bespeak a world of grace renown.

(April 28, 1990)

* * *

Virginia_G

Virginia Gambardella lives in New York, only three miles from where she grew up. Her dad was a naval engineer and adventurer, and her mom, who sometimes called her “lamb’s lettuce” was a dressmaker for Bergdorf Goodman. Virginia has one son and three grandchildren and enjoys: people, holidays, antiques, nature, gardening, fishing, decorating, fashion, sharing knowledge, cooking and baking. She’s a cancer survivor, a pancreatitis survivor, a widow, and the re-inventor of her life, “as necessary.”

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Fox on the Dock in Vermont’s Early April

FoxontheDockKnoll

Photo by Gillian Trevithick

Fox on the Dock in Vermont’s Early April

She called to say the dogs took over the night,
four outrages barking at doors and scratching windows.

When all four agree, even the old deaf one,
the marrieds rise out of bed and look to the pond, solid

ice for fox footprints to carry across to the other side
from the dock pulled up high for winter’s storms.

After the night alarm, just this, rabbit fur in the gold grass,
eastern cottontails that drift up from the south,

the ones who gnaw blueberry bushes
and rosa vergosa if spring should ever come.

 —Tricia Knoll

 aiawiwi
sieiei
Tricia Knoll has clan in Vermont and follows the ever-so-gradual coming out of snow and snowfest of this late to bloom state. Her garden is full of wildly blooming forsythia, daffodils, hellebore, and the tulips are thinking about it. In summer 2017 her new book, Broadfork Farm, is coming out from The Poetry Box. It salutes life on a small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington.

Now available at Amazon.com from Aldrich Press, Ocean’s Laughter — a book of lyric and eco-poetry about Manzanita, Oregon. Reviews. 

Urban Wild, a poetry chapbook now available from Finishing Line Press
website: triciaknoll.com
* * *

siei

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Filed under Garden Writers We Love, Green Poetry

Maple Bacon March Morning

Annecy_-_Carrion_crow_under_snow_PierreSelim

“A Carrion Crow Under Snow in Annecy” by Pierre Selim, via Wikimedia Commons.

Maple Bacon March Morning

A towhee’s red-rim eye caught sun yesterday,
relentless before the rain followed up

a moonless night of clouds
buffering the barred owl’s call.

On the wire, swallows step sideways,
making room. The flicker chooses

the chimney crown, drumming
his way to sex and vaunted chests.

A stellar jay follows my sleight of hand
feeding the crows on the mailbox,

the hand that mixed the fat with kibble
for the crows who stayed

through ice and several feet of snow.
The crows who like the fat the best

and for whom I ate the bacon.

—Tricia Knoll
* * *

Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet with two books in print – Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press 2016) and Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press 2014). Website: triciaknoll.com

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Modestree

tree_without_leaves_reidar-lunde-lillestol-relilles

Photo by Reidar Lunde Lillestøl (Relilles), via Wikimedia Commons.

 

Modestree

My leaves are gone;
my branches bare.
My bark is showing!
Please don’t stare.

—Lauren McBride

 

* * *

Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, nature, science and membership in the Science Fiction Poetry Association (SFPA). Nominated for the SFPA’s Rhysling and Dwarf Stars Awards, her work has appeared in numerous speculative, nature, and children’s publications including Bear Creek Haiku, Songs of Eretz, the Aurorean and The Heron’s Nest. She shares a love of laughter and the ocean with her husband and two grown children.

 

 

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A Whistle Broke

wendover_woods_in_autumn_-robertfirth

“Wendover Woods in Autumn” by Robert Firth, via Wikimedia Commons

 

A Whistle Broke

Deep down in the woods a whistle broke
loose and tensed the dog, tail a-wave
for a parade she ached to join.

Deep down in the woods rain fell.
I planned each step heading down
as if mud might ski me to the dell.

Deep down in the woods the crows
found the owl in the firs’ high limbs
and flocked like stone throws

to drive away the dark,
to foil the dog’s sniff of jokes,
and rock me on my feet.

—Tricia Knoll
* * *

Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet with two books in print – Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press 2016) and Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press 2014). Website: triciaknoll.com

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Fall Magic

quercus_palustris_pin_oak_-_beale_arboretum_-_west_lodge_park_hadley_wood_enfield_london

Pin Oak, or swamp Spanish oak, Quercus palustris. The Beale Arboretum, London, England. Via Wikimedia Commons.

 

ABRACADABRA
Now summer with her raging heat,
Withdraws her arms from panting earth,
The night descends, it seems at midday
Wrapping our world in darkened veils
Trees give up their coats of green
To don the scarlet cloaks of kings
But soon these mantles grace the earth
Natures jewels to trod upon
Watch closely now the hand of God
ABRACADABRA!
* * *
36866251 - yellow and red color leaves fallen on ground in autumn

Image by manganganath, via 123RF Stock Photos.

Mikey at Fairy Rock
The falling leaves weave a tapestry
Gold, red, brown and rust,
The wind throws her shuttle
Across the autumn sky,
A pattern of fairy wings
Cascading to earth,
To tryst with Oberon
One last time,
Ere the winter claims these
Gently fallen beings
To sleep forever in the earth.
* * *
virginia_gambardella

Virginia with her grandchildren, Erica and Mikey. Photo by her son Michael.

 

Virginia Gambardella lives in New York, only three miles from where she grew up. Her dad was a naval engineer and adventurer, and her mom, who sometimes called her “lamb’s lettuce” was a dressmaker for Bergdorf Goodman (she made all of Virginia’s clothes). Virginia has one son and three grandchildren and enjoys: people, holidays, antiques, nature, gardening, fishing, decorating, fashion, sharing knowledge, cooking and baking. She describes herself as “a memory keeper to the extreme”—she even kept her son’s baby teeth. She’s a cancer survivor, a pancreatitis survivor, a widow, and the re-inventor of her life, “as necessary.” She likes to exercise and spends every vacation at the beach with family.

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