Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

                  It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	the day that begins with fog that moves to sunshine
	the day my husband can ride his bike outdoors
	the day yards are being cleaned
		when daffodils on the south side of the house
		are readying themselves to open at any moment

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	when children shout outside
	when my husband doesn’t close the blinds
		(because he’s finished with his PlayStation game
		and the reflections don’t matter for a bit)
	when laundry seems a pleasure
		as well as a necessity
		and the sweet smell whispers, “Spring.”

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	the day the breeze is warm
		and “wind chill” a two-word epithet
	the day the beds are aired 
		and sheets smell clean and new.

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
        when windows open to let in spring.


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Leaves
Autumn’s flowers
Strewn along the path

© janet m. webb

When we were little, we had the orange set of Childcraft, a division of World Book Encyclopedia.  Although I’ve gotten rid of many of the volumes (as they’re out of date in areas such as science), I still have the two that have classic children’s poems and stories.  Here’s one of my favorites that I also read to our girls from a beautiful board book.  Its rhythms are perfect for getting ready to sleep.  It makes me happy just to read it again.  And with that, I’m off to bed.

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Noku #1

Posted: January 27, 2018 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

My husband coined the term “Noku” for poems that sound and feel like haiku, but don’t actually follow the “rules.”

© janet m. webb

I’m just back from a lovely, warm visit to Arizona, which means dealing with a pile of mail, things that have to be done around the house (laundry, for instance), work, etc. I’ll be blog visiting again as soon as possible this weekend and I hope your weekend is a blessed one.

copyright janet m. webb

The first leaf fell today,
	lacking even grace of color,
to lie quiescent on the sidewalk
	‘til wind-blown travel claimed it.
Soon millions more will throw themselves
	to willing death,
flaming brightly before reduced to
	crackling beneath feet in futile protest.

Days grow shorter, nights stretch longer,
	nights where passion once flamed brightly,
now passing also into death,
	unwilling on my part,
	kamikaze-like on yours.

The fire that now burns
	devours all the love
	and leaves not even embers
	that soft breath could coax back to life.

Autumn's harbingers
Lie dying before my eyes
Love once green now dead

© janet m. webb

Memorial Day, whenever celebrated, whatever called, is a day we should welcome, lest we forget those who fought and died for the freedoms we enjoy.  Here’s something I wrote for a previous Memorial Day.

 Above us

“In Flanders field the poppies blow…”

And grow, too
(as well they should
given our bones and flesh and blood
gone to fertilizer)

gone to grow
not peace
but yet more war
another layer of human fertilizer
above us

When will they ever learn?

No doubt
never
“Man” being what he is

But there are things worth fighting for
and so we gave our all
(and cheered those left behind
to live and grow
above us)