Children of the Year

How Winter loved his sister, Spring,
Though all that he did well preserve,
(Yes, each and every little thing)
She meddled in without reserve;
But then her sweet and cheery smile
Would melt him in a little while.

Ah! Lovely Spring, a tender heart,
Enlivened all with just her touch,
And wept when Winter did depart,
For he indulged her very much;
Yet how she glowed so bright with glee
When Summer came for company

Because she was her favorite one;
They treasured all the time they spent,
For all that was by Spring begun,
Did Summer sweetly complement,
Until the farewell grackle call
Would welcome in capricious Fall.

Well, Autumn was his proper name,
For Summer leaves where Autumn goes
To huff at those who shun his game,
And shower gifts on whom he chose,
Till Winter comes to calm him down,
And wait for Spring's return to town.

I Hope You Like Flowers

I was at the Highland Park Poetry Open Mic last Friday, and got to participate in my first on-the-spot poetry challenge. The theme was Gifts. I managed the below in the eight minutes I had.

It irks me when I
Can't figure out why
I can't think of what sort
Of present to buy.

I know who its for,
And what makes her smile,
Yet this silly task
Is taking a while.

Oh well, I won't sweat it,
I'll settle for flowers;
So much for my 'riginal
Thoughts all these hours.

And if she despises
My gift to her, I'll
Utter these words with
A sincere smile:

And then I ran dry. I was stuck, stuck, STUCK! When Jennifer Dotson called my name, I walked up and recited it, and generated some laughter at my dangling ending. And NOW, three days later, I decided to finish with this...

"I fear to buy
What dazzles the eye
Lest it become to you
Much dearer than I;

But flowers shall wilt
Till they are a mess,
And spare you the guilt
Of loving me less."

... just had to finish what I started.

The Ever Rising Tide

Your anger is an ocean wave
You cannot leave to rise,
For once arisen must it brave
A path to its demise:

To slowly draw into its breast
Each vessel in its wake,
Then shatter all upon its crest
Before the downward break;

Or swell in silent solitude,
Across the fickle seas
To crash upon your shores and quench
Your grove of poison trees.

So slay no spirit, spare your heart,
And know the ocean wide,
That you may breathe the winds that quell
The ever rising tide.