I was born in August, but it's not my favorite month. It's always too hot and it seems to linger unnecessarily when I just want to get back to school. I love fall, but am not a fan of Halloween. January reminds me of the blizzard of '78 and snow, snow snow. Why am I thinking about the months of the year? Largely because I've been working on a collection of poems about the seasons (more scientific than holiday-oriented) and I've been trying to think about the months in different ways.
So, now I'm writing poems about the months. Won't you join me in writing about your favorite month or a month that inspires you? Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
This is a January prose poem:
ReplyDeleteThe Money Bin in Winter
by Steven Withrow
After shoveling last night’s snow, and tromping up the driveway with the morning mail, I picture Scrooge McDuck, as Carl Barks once drew him, swan-diving, in swim trunks, like a cartoon gannet heady with rapacious glee, deep into an ocean of cold coinage. Maybe I’m wired wrong, but it occurs to me a grown man might sink headfirst in so much snow, leaving just his boots behind, for a sled dog or the Beagle Boys to uncover. Does he surface, or does he emerge, bootless, in some senses-vexing wonder-space? Curious, I toss bills aside and start to take a running leap. When, off the low, chill wind, comes the halting, brontosaur crunch of a plow truck pressing its heavy claim on the freshly minted street. Noon sun. Noon wind, painting ripples on the bare places where it passes. Is it midnight now in Duckburg? I see Uncle Scrooge, on his back, adrift on the swelling Fort Knox tide. I think. How it’s all, too real, it’s all, too real, it’s all too real for words.
©2011 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
Tricia,
ReplyDeleteHere's a poem I wrote about October and the color orange some time ago. I was was inspired by Joyce Sidman's book "Red Sings from Tree Tops."
**********
The Orange of October
shines in the face
of a harvest moon,
grows plump and round in pumpkin patches,
flickers in the angled eyes of jack o’ lanterns…
and their crooked copper grins.
The Orange of October
flames in oak leaves and asters,
smells like cinnamon and nutmeg,
tastes like sweet potato pie.
**********
September and October are my favorite months. I love autumn in New England!
I just remembered another October poem that I wrote MANY years ago:
ReplyDeleteAUTUMN CELEBRATION
In October, colored leaves
Fall from oak and maple trees…
Bright confetti shaken down
From their boughs. All over town
Trees are celebrating fall,
Decorating every wall,
Sidewalk, yard, and flowerbed
With pumpkin-orange, gold, and red.
We stand out in the falling leaves
And catch confetti on our sleeves,
In our hands and in our hair.
We party till the trees are bare.
July Waves
ReplyDeleteJuly waves a striped flag,
barbecues burgers, pours blue
across an ocean of sky,
saunters through cornfields
to the tune of crickets,
triple locks the doors
of schools, shows off
cannonballs in the deep end,
feathers bird and bee wings
in every breeze
and every tree, where he
packs the world
with green, green leaves...
Then July
waves good-bye.
We pick up our sand buckets
and sigh, watching
for the hot face of August.
--Kate Coombs, 2011, all rights reserved
February
ReplyDeleteIt is a present time,
because it is my birth month
and I count each day
with gravity and gravel,
the first because age
makes considerations grave,
the second because the driveway
makes graves a possibility.
©2011 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Late April Cliche
ReplyDeleteOn the cusp of May a reverberation
of birdsong, a barrage of yellows,
purples, oranges, pinks, and whites.
A subtle warming and the tender
brush of a breeze. A longing for more--
and a realization that more could
only diminish the rapture of spring.
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved
I am on the side of some earlier comments with October. Even though we have all been yearning for spring more lately.
ReplyDeleteWhen we gaze across the months, we see that some seem
more dutiful to the seasons than others. My vote goes often
to October as the favorite, holding minutes of dreams
of summer weather, then hinting at times of winter
with cooler nights. It glories in the final blast
of color from the summer gardens, and the leaves who’ve
lost their springtime green turn now to loss, yet hold fast
with their goodbyes in oranges, reds and yellows.
October carries us on the coaster ride from warm to cold
Winding down to Halloween, the holiday of old.
It looks like October is a winner! It is definitely my favourite month.
ReplyDeleteFall back
into leafy fire.
Amber leaves against perfect saphire skies,
the patchwork forests
keep the darkening warm.
Bubbling over
joy
with just a dash of melancholy.
Kicking up the colours
floating to the earth
makes grieving summer easy.
Giving thanks
for cozy back to school sweaters.
A love affair with wool begins.
The giddy anticiaption
of fear
on the dark, laughing streets.
Earthy scents give way to
visceral remembering
of rich soil
and harvests
not collected in a cart.
Crisp and content
is the fall
into
October.
By Sonya Wilson
May
ReplyDeleteMay is a comforting soul.
She comes cautiously
tiptoeing in
unnoticed until
she gives her hug
warm and welcoming
then she settles in
makes herself at home
and fulfills April's
broken promises.
~~Barbara J. Turner