Spring is the green
is the peace
is the breeze
and the blossoms
and the blues
past the buds
to the pinks
on the brink
and the warmth
and the warbles
and the weeds
all the yellows
and the bees
and the buzzing
living branches
and the grasses
and the gardens
and the growing
and the blowing
of the pollens
oh! the purples
and the chirples
of the birds
and the beauty
and the butterflies
in the skies
and the sun—
Springtime’s fun!
popular
Summer-nap
I drifted into a summer-nap
under the hot shade of July
serenaded by a cicada lullaby
to drowsy-warm dreams
of distant thunder…
P.S. Thank you to everyone who let me know about USA Today and King Features Syndicate using this poem for their July 5th Cryptoquote.
Creeping
shorter days seem a little ominous
shadows are becoming autumn’ish
Wintermind
The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.
P.S. Thanks so much to everyone who let me know about USA Today and King Features Syndicate using this quote for their “Cryptoquote” on December 3rd. That’s pretty cool! They actually left out a small portion and quoted it as “The color of springtime is flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.” —tg, 2022
Glow, shine, reflect
Moonlight is a beautiful and comforting reminder that the sun is still out there somewhere.
Losing count
Damnit! I binged
again II day
IV life was hard
and so I
VIII my stress away.
O why do I so of X gorge?
Since turning XL
I’ve been extra large.
What I do
altered prose by Terri Guillemets, 2019
from The Man Who Loved Jane Austen
by Sally Smith O’Rourke, 2001, page 53
All-nighter
Mockingbird lives in a tree just outside our door —
and every spring he tells songful bedtime stories
about his ardent quest to find a mockingmaiden —
his lovely talented tales start with once upon a time
then it’s nonstop plot and plagiarism all night long
with the happy ending note sometime near dawn!
Anew
Our bodies let go when it’s time to let go — it’s called death. We ought to let go of the little burdensome things each day — that’s called living.
Inflame
the world we abuse
roasting us like marshmallows
in a fire we lit
Ever finding
Always remember lost, so that you don’t take for granted found.
Why we can’t let go
Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.
Relentless
Time doesn’t tick
it doesn’t tock —
it flows relentless
it is we who chop
its water with our oars