More Word Play

Here is another one of my quirky little poems. This one was written just a few years ago. 

BROOKLYN COLLIE

Brooklyn collie

with broken collar

barking at broccoli.

Word Play

I've always enjoyed playing with words. (Come to think of it, if I didn't enjoy it, could I really call it playing with words?)  I love writing poems where the sounds are more important than the sense.

I was going to put several of them in this one post, but I've decided to share them one at a time instead.

This one was written in the 1980s.

GREEN-SONG IN L

Lila, in a lovely olive dress,

lying alone on the emerald lawn

lightly licking a lime lollipop.

Throwback Thursday

This post was originally published on December 30, 2010.

December Birdsong

Sometimes, when I hear a bird singing in December, I
repeat to myself this poem by Oliver Herford.

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
"We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

Sticks and Stones

I saw this on FACEBOOK, and I just had to share it.

Walt Whitman Said It So Much Better Than I Could

Mom and I were sitting outside on the porch a little while ago when we saw a little bit of light behind the roof of a recently-built apartment house across the street.  It was the moon coming up.
I murmured, "Lo! The moon ascending."  
When I came back inside, I Googled those words so that I could read the rest of Walt Whitman's poem.


" Lo! the moon ascending!         
Up from the east, the silvery round moon;  
Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;  
    Immense and silent moon."

 I discovered that this verse is actually part of a longer poem, and seems a bit different when read in the context of the rest of that poem.
(Someday I'm going to read Leaves of Grass in its entirety.)
I have seen many sunrises, but I have very seldom seen a moonrise.  And the fact that it was blue moon (the second full moon this month) made the event, for to me it was an event, an unexpected treat, even more special.

December Birdsong

Sometimes, when I hear a bird singing in December, I
repeat to myself this poem by Oliver Herford.

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
"We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.