Images in poems, p.1

Images in Poems, page 1

 

Images in Poems



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Images in Poems
Images in Poems

  Copyright Don Fern 2014

  Table of Contents

  Clouds and Snow

  The Christmas Boxes

  Christmas Eve Tree

  The Garden is Growing

  Hoeing the Garden

  It's Summer

  Light and Stars

  Under the Trees

  Mars in the Night

  Putting up the Tree

  A Season in the Garden

  They Walked to School

  Village Beneath

  A Cold Day

  In the Field

  Their Beach

  Always Shut the Door

  The Apple Tree

  Sun

  Also By Don Fern

  Clouds and Snow

  The mountain is dark with snow.

  In patches of white.

  The sky is blue with clouds.

  Reflecting the light.

  The snow and the clouds.

  Seem peaceful and tame.

  How do they know.

  To look the same.

  The Christmas Boxes

  From the attic, put there last year.

  I brought the boxes and sat them near.

  In the boxes were lights and globes and tinsel by yards.

  And near the corner, were some old Christmas cards.

  Pictured were skating girls and scenes with boys

  and little children playing with toys.

  There were many decorations of different types

  There were angels, stars, and snowmen with pipes.

  There were reindeers, candy canes, some little dogs,

  manager scenes, sleds, candles, and tiny logs.

  Christmas Eve Tree

  I went out the back door into the yard.

  Among the drifts that were getting hard.

  The sun just down and it was late.

  As I walked out the gate.

  I Followed the creek still flowing free.

  And came to just the right tree.

  I cut at the tree down low.

  Till it toppled on the snow.

  Beside the log fire in this room.

  I swept the corner with the broom.

  Brought in the tree, with some might.

  Stood it straight in the firelight.

  From the attic, put there last year,

  I fetched the boxes and sat them near.

  Within are decorations of different types.

  Angels, stars and snowmen with pipes.

  There are lights and globes and tinsel by yards.

  And near the corner are some old Christmas cards.

  Pictures of skating girls and boys.

  And children playing with toys.

  The tree is trimmed for tonight.

  The wood fire is burning bright.

  It’s heat, for the cold night it will be.

  It’s light, reflecting off the tree.

  The Garden is Growing

  In the garden the raindrops almost stop.

  The corn six foot, with tassels standing` on top.

  Beans are growing, climbing up their wire.

  Reaching to the corn and higher.

  The corn is taller than in the lasts years.

  One stalk is black and has no ears.

  Below gourds are crawling on the ground.

  One vine grabs a corn leaf and grows around.

  Raindrops thump the leaves, much louder now.

  The garden grows. It knows how.

  Hoeing the Garden

  Behind the house with a garden out back.

  During the afternoon with no heat to lack.

  His hoe moves smoothly through the soil.

  Hoeing the new weeds.

  Growing from their seeds.

  The day is dry and the soil is hot.

  The air is warm and the wind is not.

  He tires, stops to sit beside the row.

  Pulling weeds between plants.

  Watching the running ants.

  Rain clouds cross the fields at their will.

  Big drops hit the soil in sunlight still.

  He feels the coolness of the drops on his hand.

  Picking up the hoe.

  Walking down the row.

  Beyond the green grass ready for rain.

  The big drops hit the windowpane.

  Watering plants once more.

  Showing what it’s for.

  It’s Summer

  In the bushes, crickets are chirping.

  The sun is down in the western sky.

  Two birds fly by.

  Above the grass, lighting bugs are flashing.

  Birds are picking at the ground a lot.

  A squirrel is eating an apricot.

  A slice of the moon is shining.

  The colors of the day are starting to fade.

  The green dims in each grass blade.

  The hot day ends and it’s time to cool down.

  The leaves are still.

  Maybe it will.

  Light and Stars

  The suns a star with light. That’s what they say.

  But of how it shines or starts we know no way.

  So of this we don’t know a lot.

  The planets were stars but now they’re not.

  We hear the stars started long ago.

  But of time and works we don’t know.

  The light we see as we must.

  It is this that we can trust.

  Now comes the thought you have to bare.

  Maybe the stars were never there.

  Under the Trees

  Along the path in the woods,

  Red and white flowers stand.

  Among decaying wood,

  Two leave plants are growing.

  On the rotting trunk,

  Growing mushrooms appear.

  From the rotting hunk,

  Wood dust settles near.

  Sun shines less bright.

  Winds cool the air.

  Clouds shade the light.

  Rain drops rest there.

  Rain falls from the sky.

  Plants turn their leaves.

  Rain falls from up high.

  Flowers lean in the breeze.

  Rain and wind go their way.

  Sunshine lights the ground.

  Among flowers and leaves.

  Two leave plants are growing.

  Mars in the Night

  In October of eighty-eight.

  Which was a bit late.

  I looked at the stars.

  The brightest was Mars.

  A dog was barking.

  The moon was parking.

  On the side of the sky.

  I never knew why.

  The red planets’ orange glow.

  Went west with the star flow.

  And as the night grew longer.

  All the stars shined stronger.

  Then the nights slide past.

  And the orange didn’t last.

  And Mars dimmed its brightness.

  To be one in nights delightness.

  The book from the stack.

  Says its coming back.

  So I’ll look and see.

  In two thousand and three.

  Putting up the Tree

  I went out the back door into the yard.

  Among the drifts that were getting hard.

  The sun almost down and it’s getting late.

  As I walked in the snow and opened the gate.

  Followed the creek still flowing free.

  Then came upon just the right tree.

  Cut at the trunk down low.

  Till the tree toppled on the snow.

  Beside the log fire in this room.

  I swept the corner with the broom.

  Brought in the bucke
t and tree using some might.

  Stood the tree straight in the firelight.

  Put on tinsel and lights of this and that kind.

  Then sat by the fire with resting thoughts in mind.

  Through the window the stars send their light.

  The house is bright and warm on this good night.

  A Season in the Garden

  The long summer days were hot and dry.

  Now it’s past the end of fall.

  Some cabbage, watermelon, and lettuce grew.

  During June it didn’t rain at all.

  In March carrots and peas were planted.

  Inside, marigolds started from seeds.

  The spring rain grew early peas.

  Time was spent hoeing weeds.

  Pea pods were filled in June.

  Pumpkins vines were dropping down.

  The first red tomatoes were ripe.

  The green beans turned brown.

  During the first of August some rain fell.

  The carrots were growing underground.

  Indian corn hung on stalks in early fall.

  Some pumpkins had grown orange and round.

  Birds had fluttered around the sunflowers.

  The squirrel had sat on the woodpile.

  A black and yellow spider had clung to a web.

  In November it snowed a while.

  They Walked to School

  In the Late summer.

  They walked along the red brick sidewalk.

  The bricks sunk into the ground, long ago.

  Leaving grass and red patches, to show.

  Branches from the apple tree, hung low.

  They picked apples above the sidewalk.

  In the early fall.

  Wildflowers flowered along the way.

  Blooms were bright purple, red, and blue.

  Cows in the pasture and new grass grew.

  Leaves from tall trees past them, blew.

  They collected leaves while going the way.

  In the cold winter.

  They walked in the car track, made the path.

  Snow came to rest on tree limbs, now bare

  The snow covered the leaves, with care.

  The white field had no, cows there.

  The snowplow made a new wide path.

  In the new spring.

  Wildflowers flowered along the road.

  Blossoms bloomed with limbs, leaning.

  Cows pastured with new grass, greening.

  Trees spread new leaves with, meaning.

  They walked to school, down the road.

  Village Beneath

  From the window of the train.

  Past the station with a wreath.

  Down the snow covered lane.

  The village sits beneath.

  Past the shops with snow on roofs.

  A horse gallops pulling a sled.

  Leaving tracks of horses hoofs.

  Beside lamp poles wrapped in red.

  In front of the general store.

  A girl sits on a bale.

  She walks to the door.

  And inside gets the mail.

  Below a ringing church bell.

  A man drags a green tree.

  Turns at the corner well.

  To the house where it will be.

  Three boys over yond.

  Along the slope of the bank.

  Slide in silence to the pond.

  On a smoothed curved plank.

  On a turned over boat.

  A dog lays and waits.

  While a boy in a coat.

  Puts on his skates.

  The train pulls out of town.

  Past a Christmas lit pine.

  Around the corner and down.

  Leaving the village behind.

  A Cold Day

  On this cold day.

  Feel the fresh clean air.

  See the Oaks and Pines on this slope.

  Standing with care.

  Hear the wind sweeping through the trees

  The snow covering the trunks on a side.

  The cold air flows near the ground.

  The flakes of snow gently glide.

  Taste the new white snow on the leaves.

  Each icey twig hangs like a silver ray.

  The sun is round and small.

  On this short day.

  Touch the pine cones among the leaves.

  These cones have fallen on the ground.

  Making the mix with leaves and snow.

  The snow is falling thicker all around.

  Smell the pine needles and the cones.

  The light is dimming and it's alright.

  The small cold sun is sinking down.

  Another freeze begins on this slope tonight.

  In the Fields

  In fields grasses grew.

  The farmers came.

  Built the houses.

  Ploughed the fields.

  Grew the corn.

  The train started coming.

  The people started coming.

  Houses were built.

  Schools were built.

  Stores were built.

  The companies came.

  Bought the fields.

  The farmers left.

  The people left.

  The train stopped coming.

  Tracks rusted and moved.

  Houses emptied and decayed.

  Schools locked and collapsed.

  Stores closed and demolished.

  In the fields corn grows.

  Their Beach

  Before the sun.

  They are there.

  On their beach.

  The sleepers sleep, on their sand.

  Laying in the night,

  By the water.

  The surfers sit, on their boards.

  Looking out to sea,

  For the wave.

  The fishers wait, on their pier.

  Watching the lines,

  For the catch.

  The sun rises.

  The outsiders arrive.

  The shops open.

  The intruders arrive.

  Cars fill the street.

  The sleepers, surfers, fishers vanish.

  The sun sets.

  During the night,

  Before the sun.

  They return to their beach.

  Always Shut the Door

  Warning: Always shut the door.

  When you go, up the stairs,

  To the attic door.

  Inside, the chair by the glass.

  The ghost is there.

  The ghost is in the chair.

  When you get the Christmas Santas.

  Hurry! Leave!

  Always shut the door.

  Warning: Always shut the door.

  When you go, down the stairs,

  To the cellar door.

  Inside, the furnace by the coal.

  The demon is there.

  The demon is in the fire.

  When you get the Halloween apples.

  Hurry! Leave!

  Always shut the door.

  The Apple Tree

  The heat arrived.

  The buds grew.

  The blossoms appeared.

  The bees came.

  The fruits enlarged.

  The nights lengthen.

  The apples dropped.

  The possums ate the apples.

  The nights cooled.

  The green browned.

  The leaves fell.

  The squirrels came.

  The winds rose.

  The flakes fell.

  The snows drifted.

  The deer ate the branches.

  Sun

  Sun rushed north.

  Spring approached.

  Day got longer.

  Night got shorter.

  Sun started south.

  Summer arrived.

  The longest day.

  The shortest night.

  Sun rushed south.

  Fall approache
d.

  Night got longer.

  Day got shorter.

  Sun started north.

  Winter arrived.

  The longest night.

  The shortest day.

  ***

  Also By Don Fern

  Also written by Don Fern, the short science fiction story "The Sea Explorer".

 
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