Tag Archives: Tricia Knoll

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
* * *
Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Green Poetry

On Fire Orange Legs

Ensatina_eschscholtzii_e (2)

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

siei

sie

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
* * *

siei

Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Garden Writers We Love, 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

Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Garden Writers We Love, Green Poetry

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

Leave a comment

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

Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Garden Writers We Love, Green Poetry

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

Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Green Poetry

After the 2016 Election

tenthousandrosebushes

Image by Sandra Knauf

The Day I Helped Lop Ten Thousand Rosebushes

November 9, 2016

Wind pruning we call it. Taking the garden down
to wrist high so when the winter winds blast
down the gorge, low canes stay rooted,
refuse to topple, stand for the long haul
to first leaves, bud and bloom.

We were a tribe in coveralls and gloves,
pricked with razor thorns and lament.
The day carried November sun despite our gloom.
Our lopper tools were dull
from a summer long of use, needing
sharpening hours of winter downtime.

Yet, we lopped and whacked and whacked
and lopped. Hauled the remains on tarps
to a bucket loader for the dump truck.
One woman sorted through the loads
of fallen thorns and canes for the few tight buds
of orange and red flame mixed with yellow
that survived this late November.

We lopped and whacked and whacked
and lopped, and bent our backs, tired
from too late a TV night. Repetitive motion
to ensure the thorns will grow back
and perhaps allow another rose
to bloom out of this fierce, sad work.

—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

Be Our Patron

Leave a comment

Filed under Green Poetry