Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Ugly frozen baby flowers
are everywhere.
Fresh out of earthy womb,
only mother spring
could love those faces;
only silly birds
would sing them
such pretty songs
in cold morning's dark;
although I will tell you,
if you promise
to keep it a secret,
lots of times,
I sing to them too.

I can't sing
but I promised myself many years ago
it seems
to always say
"Hello Spring"
so happy to see
your face again"

a greedy child
I am was
always wanting
more

yes happy to sing to spring
I am getting down to the last sip of Nehi grape soda
in the bottle
trying to savor every last drop
and wondering will I see another
winter pass into spring

I don't know what to say
sorry for the ramble
I L word the poem

When it's early I'm optimistic.
Only silly birds would sing to
a cold, dark spring in waiting,
and I listen for now.

there will always be hope in the crocus and the forsythia as you astutely point out, hester.....the tease of a ugly head gives promise that the cycle spins on.....nice

even frozen baby flowers are pretty

chilly in a wrapped-in-blankets-before-a-fire sort of way... snuggly.

Hester writes pretty poetry
her art is magic
invisible

still rambling hester
reading your reply to a saw poem this morning
made me realize something about your style
and then it
seemed like a long time since I read one of your poems.

so I decided to kick this one up again just to see if I had anything germane to say

and wondering how your daily grind goes into what you write?

I think about those desperate people, your clients and I think about them as your ugly frozen baby flowers.

Sing to them hester

It is a burn out job

But you are all they got

do it as long as you can.

dang me
another day another ramble
they ought to take a rope and hang me