Poems by Adults

by Adam D Fisher, 2022

Cicadas are the garden’s continuo

a gentle bass background

under dove’s early coo,

cardinals’ proclamation of presence.

Deep under maple shade

green and white hostas thrive

with ferns and woodruff. The great

blue-gray spruce rises like a bearded

sage near peonies whose purple

and pink flowers are an extravagant

welcome to more modest ivy geraniums.

Birds feed in front of rose of Sharon, prodigious

summer bloomers in pink and purple, high above

hydrangeas adorned with white, blue and pink balls.

Lythrum is fading white while anemones hold

budding promise of blue September flowers. Wygelia

is  a wan memory of spring, but palest pink

baby’s breath is a small cloud near the grass.

Purple balloon flowers and feathery

Russian sage rise against the gray fence.

Spent Japanese irises are next to

gaudy yellow-orange rudebeckia

while phlox, pink and white,+ are next to

yellow “Peace,” roses.

Yes. Peace.

by Charlotte Heotis, edited by Peter Heotis, 2022

oh, Azure skies with sculptured clouds

That movement on the winds rely

Your grander delights my eye

And lures me, to fly.

In reverie I’m lifted up

And floating in the blue

Awed, overwhelmed, astonished by the view

Indeed born up in a way-

Now, if you think this is delirious

Sit back-relax and dream

For all life is a Wonderland

Staid, inert-or extreme.

Oh, that seed or breath from which the world was born

Floating into the abyss and out of the mist

It’s motion to the ebb and flow

To make each molecule to grow

How, oh how we all marvel and watch so

Each atom take its place

And fill each empty space

Lake and sky, eternity, humanity, life!

by Charlotte Heotis, edited by Peter Heotis, 2022

The goblins are a comin’

They’re traipsing up my walk

Some look mighty ghoulish

Speaking in such a gibberish

They have unearthly grins

Some I’m sure are aliens

There’s animals and ghastly insects

And humans with grotesques defects

Fairies dancing on the lawn

Even a cavorting little fawn

Do you think this is all a dream?

Of course not, it’s just Halloween!

by Adam D Fisher, 2022

The street is quiet now.

The garbage truck

rumbled though an hour ago.

 

The few cars pass slowly

under trees that arch over the road

shading it from hot sun.

 

The road curves around the pond

passing neat lawns, rows of tall arborvitae.

White roses and blue salvia provide quiet color.

 

A dark eyed child in seersucker

shorts digs in the sand box,

another squeaks quietly on the swing.

 

A heavy man floats in the pale blue pool

while a woman in a wide straw hat

lays on a lounge sleeping.

 

Frogs croak unseen by the pond’s reeds,

others swim or rest by the shore.

 

A sparrow grasps a slowly swaying branch

where it wipes its beak.

 

A great white egret’s long legs wade

slowly searching for fish.

 

A dozen ducks float, the male Mallards’

heads iridescent in the sun.

 

A woman in a white dress

sits grasping her knees looking at the pond.

by Adam D Fisher, 2022

I pull a tomato plant

from its plastic pack,

its fine white roots

vein the dark soil.

My trowel parts the earth,

and after I lower the roots

I cover and tamp it down,

knowing that

with water and sun

tomatoes will grow

without my even looking.

by Charlotte Heotis, edited by Peter Heotis, 2022

Erupting

Lava throwing

Pouring

Soil eroding

Snowing

Shifting blinding

Lighting

Fire igniting

Blowing

Life destroying

Foaming

Waves soaring

In the earth it’s

Growing, groaning

Ever evolving

Hush

by Adam D. Fisher, 2022

When a grandpa arrives

visits his grandson,

Jimmy jumps up and down,

“Quick grandpa let’s go

bike riding. I want to show you

my secret, magical place.

Please! Please!!” Grandpa

follows recalling that he hasn’t ridden a bike

in forty years and doesn’t know

if he remembers how.

He follows his grandson to the

garage where he finds his daughter’s

bike rusted, tires flat, chain askew.

He pumps up the tires,

adjusts the chain, and gives

it a try. He is wobbly at first but soon

more confident.  He follows Jimmy

to a path in the woods paved with wood chips,

“ See, Grandpa, I told you

this was a secret, magical place.” Just then

a couple walks by with a dog. “Well,” says Jimmy,

“almost secret, but still magical. Let me show you

my favorite tree.” They ride farther. The boy

stops lays down his bike and hugs a giant oak.

“This is the biggest tree in the forest and has magical

powers too.” Grandpa gets off the bike and holds

hands around the tree with his grandson, “You’re

right—it is magical.”

by Charlotte Heotis, edited by Peter Heotis, 2022

Someone inked my trees in black and white

And silently did it over night

Against the covered snow below.

No one signed nor painted it, I know

I’m sure no artist’s canvas could capture

Such a scene of depth and rapture

Praise to God, for the eyes’ delight

Of outlines done in black and white.

by Anne Kelly-Edmunds, 2021

Protection

Cold crocus close tight

purple petals touch

like hands folded in prayer

Daffodils

Trumpets crowned

with golden petals

play on a hillside,

sway with rhythm

Weathering the Storm

Valiant tulips

brave torrents of rain

blasts of wind,

buds ever upward

Peerless Pansies

Possibly purple

Phenomenal

Pert

Perky

Peppy

Preening

Potted

Planted

Picked

Peachy keen

This Morning’s Surprise

In the bathroom sink

orange, yellow, green, blue

a slice of rainbow

by Yvette Malavet-Blum, 2021

I am grateful for the artists who inspires me to write

For the poet who ends her stanza with words of love

For Bruce who walks and talks and moves in poetry and song

Adele who reminds me that growing older makes a person reckless

For the spirit of my son who reaches into my heart and reminds me of my ability to create

And the song that emerges from my mind swinging and moving into being

I am grateful for the artists who paints and leaves me breathless

For the day that I can walk into a museum and find myself inside an artist’s brush work

I am grateful for the love that keeps me breathing and living and singing and moving

And honoring my passion

And recognizing that it is truly mine

My song

My dreams

My love story

My life

My time on earth

My touch so unique and special that I can touch another soul and feel it tremble

Someone of like mind like Bruce and Adele

Thank you for the artists that writes with beauty and leaving me

Writing

About Gratitude