Short Laggard Poems

spears sing of spring
push past rag-tag laggard snow---
trumpet the sun...

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Wake oh laggard sun and anoint a freed age.
Wake the guff and lose all allegiance primal. 
Roar and rise angelic at man's evolving
endlessly joyful....

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The laggard oak leaves
skitter like brown field mice
their stem-tails and sharp edges
scratching across the road.
Grates and bushes trap them.
Layering they accumulate
awaiting the recomposition of life....

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The hot, autumn sun
spills effulgent;
dark branches, roused,
glow lustrous as blue day.

Burgeoning trees
cling to verdant leaves
denying impending
vermillion days.

Summer's love abides,
warming laggard blooms
under the flowing fern.

Summer will stay for now;
Winter patiently waits
to renew the ripe world....

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Burnt toast horizons singe the autumn sky.
Cinnamon swirls smoke the golden hour,
awaiting the drizzled frosting of ashen night.
Pluck the taunt string of barren branch.
Whip the laggard moonlight white.

Bring forth the banshee’s breath.
Scorch the sockets of pumpkin
impaled in fallow fields.
“Gather, Oh come! Ye ghosts
beneath the apple tree."...

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If you're ever going to love me,
love me now so I will know.
Don't wait till they chisel my name
in ice cold stone.

If you know someone was thirsty,.
for a drop of water sweet.
Would you be so slow to bring it,
would you walk with laggard feet?

If you're ever going to love me,
love me now so I will know.
So I can hold and treasure it
and it may continue to grow....

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The sun shines again 
for he smiles.
The indeterminable day no longer flees or hides
for its end is sought, as is its beginning
for he smiles.
Confusion though abiding
must wait the laggard servant
scolded by the Mistress Aphrodite
for he smiles.
Want must find a different dwelling
for the moment un-housed by sweetest joy
for he smiles.
The sun shines again....

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glorious day calls
donning summer's broad-brimmed hat
for LOVE of sunshine

locate garden shoes
unworn since last november
garden work my FUN
laggard spring was late and cold
urgent..seeding must get done

dig them up and put them in
setting sets in ..seeding seeds
hoeing, raking, composting
POETRY alive


Won a 5th with this
By: Joyce Johnson for Linda's contest "Fun & Frolic"  (3 forms)...

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Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.

Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.

The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.

The last, lingering, lustful
remainders of Winter.
The day before Spring begins....

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The late morning light glazes the lake,
pierces, with stems and stalks of lily and reed.
Shadows freeze like lashes upon the limpid surface
of still water fracturing the sky-blue to black.
Iris of earthen orb, brush back the unruly screen of vision,
rub the cinders from night's lingering trace,
awake from the mire of silted dream.    
Let the wind, your laggard lover,
rise a frolicking and remove each lash
with the gentle touch of fingertip....

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She's just turned six year old and so
Her baby teeth are primed to go.
But one, reluctant to vamoose,
Just hangs in there, relaxed and loose.

Our Amy doesn't seem to mind. 
She is not the conceited kind,
And has more things to think about
Than a laggard tooth that won't fall out.

If you chance to see beguiling grin
With a tooth that is more out than in,
You have seen our Amy, there's no doubt
And her baby tooth that won't fall out....

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New Day
     New beginning
          New life

Body still bleeds

   Days have been a pawn of struggles
Quest for long reach upon every dawn 
an ardent mind, a vision of concern
sorrow, sobs, and fears patience mourned
Retch the grim laggard illness unadorned 
idle morns, stark painful weary days, 
hearkened to the long chanting nights bray
warm dreams for a 
     New life..
          New beginning..
               New day


3/17/2017...

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Listen to poem:

"Move!" sounds command.
I stir, arise, lift a laggard hand.
Can movement mark with magic
All latent space?
Shall thoughtless motion,
Mere mindless flurry,
Confer importance
On the empty hour?
"Speak!" rings out.
Sing I, then, quavery syllables
Against the quiet as though
Sound could skirt the still
Or melody make right
The evils of the night.
Think: none judge me harshly
Save sour I, my mirthless self.
Song stops. So solitude
Into stony silence slips....

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