Elements
hills
surround me
as I drive
quiet conversations
forest
endless spread
of fauna and trees
breathes
lakes
morning’s
reflection [of]
sun
Dear Florence,
The minutes turn to hours when I grace
The mellow’d country of my youth,
Where ruptured bicycles rest like wreaths
Under the golden brilliance of heaven.
Here, time surrenders itself upon
Her hollow’d drives,
And betwixt her swaying pines
The Dantean fables breathe unto me
A renew’d serenity.
O Florence,
Her muddied brooks enchant me of
A brandywine incense,
And ever still are her flowing valleys,
Where once I spent my summer’s end.
A cabin in the pines, it’s been years
It resembles what I remember even as it appears
On New Year’s Adam, it begins to snow
(It was Adam before Eve as you know)
Northern Wisconsin calls me home again
Old memories awaken as night thoughts do stem
The oil lamp flickers on nostalgia’s hem
Blank paper awaits: from old yarns that’ve been spun
Outside winter dances in a frigid hush
Inside warmth permeates
Then a gentle knock, and the silence it breaks
An old friend, a familiar face illuminated by fire light
(Is it a second chance at love at first sight?)
Guided by love, and family’s guiding vane
She enters, seeking warmth and to explain
How loneliness shaped her and years we can’t ignore
We talk of days we once shared afore
Our laughter echoing through the snowy hours
Tonight, no passion, only a friendship’s bowers
God’s presence felt, our presences collide
The fruit of The Spirit towards which we both stride
I honor the woman she has grown to be
The full spectrum of her muliebrity
Through grace and time, His love for us is known
God has guided our paths (to us previously unknown)
I heard about Wisconsin Dells for years
My husband dislikes traveling, so I opted to go
Spur of the moment with three teenage girls and two munchkins
the munchkins were also girls, about nine
One was mine; the other one belonged to a stranger
I was amazed they let me take her five hours from Chicago
But this was back in the day when strangers trusted each other
I booked a room, and off we flew; I was driving like a maniac
When we arrived, I collapsed next to the motel pool; I wanted to nap
“Missy!” a strange man was yelling at the other nine-year-old
that nine-year-old took off toward the man, I gave chase.
He had been her daddy’s best man
Now I knew napping was not going to happen
Wisconsin Dells has everything to do and we did it all
I spent eight-hundred-and-ninety-five dollars in three days
It was worth it; we came home on five dollars.
Do you remember it …
That one late spring day,
Solemn, where two could sit
A place nearby, but far away
It must be there still …
All around was dense with green
A steep hill, a small hill …
A footbridge in-between
Leading down into the nook
A place both shaded and quiet,
And the bench by the brook
Sat there waiting by it …
Along the floor of the wood
A robin passed by as I recall,
How I still wish that I could
Come back here next fall.
I
The friend in the deli
of the Piggly Wiggly
in Lodi show me her nails
strikes up conversations
when I come back to town
for a second week of work.
I tell her about the work
on utility lines on county roads
where I control traffic
and the beauty of the countryside.
She tells me about her daughter
two years old who brings joy
and says she’s finding her life
as we share stories every day.
time shared day after day
the delectable taste
of our conversations
II
The motel clerk near Portage
checks me in for the week.
Her black T-shirt says Hot Stuff
and I tease her
and we learn to confide
in each other.
We talk about our losses
and she says her boyfriend
has died from an overdose
and I lend her my understanding.
One night I sit in the lobby
and watch my favorite TV show.
She sits on a chair near me
as if a date as I sink into
the cushions of the couch.
We talk about our futures
as I check out at the end of the week
I say the next I’ll be on another assignment
but we vow to stay in touch.
moments shared
during my stay
my home for the week
.
Today, in Wisconsin, three children lost their lives.
The media of course pours on us, emotional jive!
I, personally, cannot imagine, such a heartbreaking loss.
In a school, no less, friends and parents bear the cost!
Mental illness is a bloody monstrous thief.
When neglected,……it causes endless grief!
Watch the screams to take guns away.
While the breath of innocents by other means.
No…no guns needed …no,none at all.
Young girls choked and raped.. no border, needed.at all?
Fentanyl came here flowing like rivers without any ration.
Add 1,500 last minute pardons, we will not have a nation!
12/16/2024
You opened your heart for me
on a Friday evening
after I worked in Green Bay.
My friend who lived near
Milwaukee said you
were the best place
to be in Wisconsin,
the forests
and tourist shops
that lay between
the bay and Lake Michigan.
I glanced to my right and knew
the lake was there
the endless waters and sky
but as I was driving
to Sturgeon Bay
I looked to the clouds
I was calling out to you
to take me on a greater journey
somewhere beyond the stars.
As I turned to go downtown
a bow of a ship appeared
the frame yet to take shape.
I remembered my younger days
spent along the shores
of The Great Lakes.
Patrons at a tourist bar
near the shipyard
as the jukebox played
proclaimed your sons and daughters
built the iron vessels
with their study hands—
it was a way of life to them.
The bartender said
explorers and sailors
died in your waters
as I finished my drink.
Streetlights twinkled
as I said goodnight to you
and my tires sang as I drove.
When I turned off the radio
I heard a whisper
the sound of your voice
calling me back.
‘Waupaca Awakens’
The thin ice cracks
As daylight breaks,
Along the still waters
Of a chain of lakes
Melting snow and slush
Both lapping the pier,
Letting the bluegill know
A new season is near
North of the place
The first sound is heard,
A sign of change is ...
The red-winged blackbird
Their call from the birch
Is melodic and shrill,
Carried on the winds
Of winter's last chill
Leaves of the maple
Needles of the pine,
Rustle in the breeze
Shiver down their spine
Timid, black bear cubs
And white-tailed fawns,
Welcome one of many
Warm, springtime dawns
Mallards in the distance
Returning geese overhead,
Spotted calves yawning
In their fenced in bed
Much seasonal beauty
One small town did regain,
All of Waupaca awakens
From meadow to Main.
(4/4/24)
2nd Place
"Waupaca Awakens with Poetry" Poetry Contest
waupacaarts.org/waupaca-poetry-contest-winners-1
(Just a note for those who may not know ... Waupaca is a small town in the state of Wisconsin, not far from where I live. Their annual poetry contest was held recently and I placed 2nd with this poem ... )
Oktoberfest
Pretzel and beer
Wisconsin’s finest celebration
Bringing all Germans into town
To raise their frothy glasses to each other
The prettiest girls wear the sweet dresses
With suspenders and colors of their ancestors
Salt on the pretzels as large as dinner plates
Mugs large enough to sit in
Octoberfest in Wisconsin
Frigid timbers creak
Bearing heaviest snow yet ...
Warming sun awakes
Where frosty flurries flourish
Sailing silver clouds stop,
Driving drips do nourish
Where would-be rains drop
Above a timbered tundra land
Laden lumber under showy snow,
Pretty piles of icy inches expand
Wild winter winds bellow below
A bathing beauty became the birch
And diamond bubbles graced her lap,
Sparkling clean, crested a new perch
Was on her head a shower cap
The pungent pine no longer evergreen
With cones of vanilla like ice cream,
Veiled in volumes of a scene serene
Frosty flurries flourish a January dream.
Another senseless shooting has occurred again.
This time, it was in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Three men killed and three others injured at a bar.
The suspect was caught after stealing a car.
Isn't this something we all hate to see?
These incidents have been happening too frequently.
from a news story found on aol.com
While wondrous willows weep, wild whistling winds whirl wickedly
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
8/31/2022
Dear Door County
I sing to your shores
bounded by rolling tides.
I sing to Death’s Door
where Green Bay
and Lake Michigan meet.
I sing to your grief
about sailors lost.
I sing to the ships your sons
make in Sturgeon Bay.
I sing to the canal
where you set them free.
I sing to the lighthouse
showing the way.
I sing to the bed and breakfast
in Egg Harbor where tourists meet.
I sing to the Maritime Museum
where you tell your stories.
I sing to your daughter
who tells me your ways.
I sing to your forests
rising from the land.
I sing to my visions and dreams
as if I never left your shores.
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