Category Archives: Green Poetry

The Dream

Robert_Anning_Bell_1901_A_Flight_of_Fairies

Robert Anning Bell, 1901, “A Flight of Fairies” – via Wikimedia Commons.

 

The Dream

Hold my hand and we will go
to places only fairies know.
Beneath the green-striped lily leaf
beside a nest the robin weaves.
Into the tulip’s lifted cup
We’ll drink the dew drops while we sup.
Then ride a snail across the path,
to splash with sparrows in their bath.
Someday we’ll course a moonbeam bright,
and fade into the magic night.

Virginia Caroline Schmidt Gambardella

 

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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 was a dressmaker for Bergdorf Goodman. Virginia 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.” She wrote “The Dream” in 1991.

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The Woods With No Name

HEVER_CASTLE_AND_GARDENS_A_white_Camellia (2)

“Hever Castle and Gardens, A White Camellia” by Michael Garlick, via Wikimedia Commons

The Woods With No Name

Morning coffee and my attempt to think of news as stones
that I can shake through a screen to separate
pea gravel from those as big as eggs or golf balls.
The pope gifting his thoughts on climate change.
A man running for Congress assaulting a reporter.
Budget chicanery and bells that toll in Manchester.
All the rocks stayed upside the screen, glommed
to words I meant to string up for a social justice website.

I went to a woods, the woods with no name
where thought senses soft breezes, old firs,
and a few tall weeds. Bending toward the sun,
at the edge of the woods, a camellia that dropped
white blooms weeks ago. Dead twigs as innards,
branches the snow snapped or draped onto the mud.

Thinking in visuals. Open a sightline
to the obelisk raised for a dead son. Gut
what is dead or yellowed. Help what bowed
in defeat to lift up again. Encourage nodes that promise
next year’s bloom, next year’s leaves.

When I was done, a pleasing camellia poem
stood on the verge of the woods with no name.
Pruned so that no one would say who did that?
what happened? Pruned to a shape it yearned
to be but somehow lost in the traffic of daily life.

—Tricia Knoll

In summer 2017 Tricia’s new book, Broadfork Farm, is coming out from The Poetry Box. It salutes life on a small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington.

Website: triciaknoll.com
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On Fire Orange Legs

Ensatina_eschscholtzii_e (2)

Ensatina eschscholtzii eschscholtzii”, photo by Chris Brown, via Wikimedia Commons

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Rock Wall in Suburban Woods

Stones in the wall nest with each other
as communion comes in touch and quiet.

The moss earns its way in solace
giving seasons a green to measure.

An ensatina salamander slips
from the verge of stone and mud

on fire-orange legs in the dark
and scrabbles for spiders and slugs.

Breathing through skin, hidden
under a rock roof, moss for a rug,

and silence as its hiding place.

—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
 SIE
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siei

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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)

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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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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
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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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