Welcome to where I am, where my kitchen's always messy, a pot's (or a poet) always about to boil over, a dog is always begging to be fed. Drafts of poems on the counter. Windows filled with leaves. Wind. Clouds moving over the mountains. If you like poetry, books, and music--especially dog howls when a siren unwinds down the hill-- you'll like it here.


MY NEW AUTHOR'S SITE, KATHRYNSTRIPLINGBYER.COM, THAT I MYSELF SET UP THROUGH WEEBLY.COM, IS NOW UP. I HAD FUN CREATING THIS SITE AND WOULD RECOMMEND WEEBLY.COM TO ANYONE INTERESTED IN SETTING UP A WEBSITE. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT MY NEW SITE TO KEEP UP WITH EVENTS RELATED TO MY NEW BOOK.


MY NC POET LAUREATE BLOG, MY LAUREATE'S LASSO, WILL REMAIN UP AS AN ARCHIVE OF NC POETS, GRADES K-INFINITY! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT WHEN YOU FEEL THE NEED TO READ SOME GOOD POEMS.

VISIT MY NEW BLOG, MOUNTAIN WOMAN, WHERE YOU WILL FIND UPDATES ON WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY KITCHEN, IN THE ENVIRONMENT, IN MY IMAGINATION, IN MY GARDEN, AND AMONG MY MOUNTAIN WOMEN FRIENDS.




Showing posts with label Spring poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spring poems. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

MAGPIE TALES: LES FENETRES



Cinquains are fun: the syllables run in this order per 5 lines--2, 4, 6, 8, 2. I used to day-dream in classes about when I'd be able to wear my French looking open-toe sling backs after a long winter. I wish I owned a pair of shoes like the above from Magpie Tales.

LES FENETRES

Windows
I look out of
while I sit in English
Class wondering how long before
I can

wear sling
backs, how flirty
these windows look, filling
with green buds and snazzy birds blitz-
ing by!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

MAGPIE TALES: DEMETER'S DAFFODIL


Now is the season when the goddess Demeter welcomes her daughter Kore (or Persephone) back from the Underworld, her joy at the reunion kindling Spring for the world. Here she finds in the first daffodil her beloved daughter's presence.

DEMETER'S DAFFODIL

(for Willow at Magpie Tales)

To dip
into your corolla
carefully one wintry
finger and touch

to my throat
what I hear begin tuning
up downwind,
the little frogs

chorusing cullowhee
cullowhee, Cherokee
shivaree down by

the rain-swollen Tuckasee-
gee, what sweeter
scent than the attar
of you ever
after come back
to me, Golden
Girl!
My laughing daughter!

Friday, March 20, 2009

The SOUND OF GREEN



(Green as seen through a scrim of still-leafless Sweet Shrub)

In response to my appeal for poems that sound like "green," (on my Laureate's Lasso blogI received only one! Where are you, spring-crazed poets? You are supposed to be out smelling the first green, inhaling the sunshine, listening to the tree frogs and letting your imagination fill up to the brim! Send me some poems!

Thank you, Diane. This is a lovely poem, and as I told you in my comments, I particularly like "The days stretch, the nights shrink." I wish I knew more about you. Your students are fortunate to have you as their teacher.

Diane, Teacher said...

As I stood on my porch at sunset today, I could hear the "sound of green".

Tree frogs sing
Crickets cheep
Pink fingers of sunshine stream along the horizon
The days stretch, the nights shrink
Nature’s music reveals
Spring is here!