National Poetry Month Community Project Posts

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.