Monday, May 09, 2011

Monday Poetry Stretch - What Month Inspires You?

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.


  1. This is a January prose poem:

    The 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

  2. Tricia,

    Here'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!

  3. I just remembered another October poem that I wrote MANY years ago:


    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.

  4. July Waves

    July 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

  5. February

    It 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

  6. Late April Cliche

    On 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

  7. I am on the side of some earlier comments with October. Even though we have all been yearning for spring more lately.

    When 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.

  8. It looks like October is a winner! It is definitely my favourite month.

    Fall back
    into leafy fire.
    Amber leaves against perfect saphire skies,
    the patchwork forests
    keep the darkening warm.
    Bubbling over
    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

    By Sonya Wilson

  9. May

    May 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