Posts Tagged ‘Autumn’

November 11, 2012

Autumn colors from my bathroom window today

Working in the backyard all day, I’m dog tired. But the property looks better, with hens corralled and rye grass sown in expectation of that beautiful Irish green come early spring.

What sustained me was what was around….the full blown beauty of the fall, still color dripping on this canvas, the heavy rains of last week merciful to the trees and their jewel-like glory. I took this picture from my upstairs bathroom window. The light was good and though almost dusk, the colors stood out. A flock of Sandhill cranes were high above, honking mournfully and it looked like their GPS was broken as they circled repeatedly in formation. The winds were carassing my tired bones and for once, the three hounds were laying around sunning themselves and not underfoot.

Much to be thankful for, especially the good advice of dear friends.

Lady Nyo

AUTUMN DUSK

Stuttering winds blow across
Clouds tinted by the failing sun.
Brittle air softens,
Now a faded blue–
Shade of an old man’s watery eyes.

A late flock of Sandhill cranes lift off,
Pale bodies blending in the
Twilight with legs
Flowing dark streamers,
Their celestial cries fall to
Earth–
A harsh, chiding rain.

The trees in the valley
Are massed in darkness
As waning light leaches
Color from nature,
Creeps from field to hillock
And all below prepares for the
Rising of the Corn Moon.

Even frogs in the pond
Listen between croaks
For the intention of the night.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2010
From: White Cranes of Heaven, Lulu.com 2011

‘A Most Fickle Season’

December 26, 2011

 

Autumn,

That too-fickle season

Has thrown off Joseph’s coat

And turned to Winter.

Gone the leaves,

Brilliant matinees of airborne jewels

Illuminated in prismatic splendor

By the sun piercing a brittle blue sky–

Replaced  with blackened limbs

Stretching naked arms towards a glowering sky.

This season of alms and hunger has begun.

Gone the pelting rains

Which poured down window panes

Like crinkled crepe paper

Distorting the view of the shearing outside.

Gone, too, are the golden sunsets

Where a beam of light transposes

Distant trees, paints the belly of clouds.

The leaves and color are gone

And that is as it should be.

What is now outside

Hints at what is beginning inside–

The long passage through a muted season.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011,  from “White Cranes of Heaven”, published by Lulu.com, 2011

  

“Shake Ye Skeleton Hambones”

October 30, 2011

My Cinderilla Pumpkin...With blemishes....

 

I  planned to post the next poem in what has become the “Lady Nyo Tales”, but d’versepoets.com has asked me to write something for their site, and I have: “Ten Thousand Leaves: The Love Poetry of the Man’yoshu”. This will be posted there on November 3rd.

So, since it’s Halloween, and I love this season, I present a short poem written exactly last year on a trip to the North Georgia mountains. 

I hear some religious fundamentalists call Halloween ‘Devil’s Day’.  So be it. I hope kids show up to eat all this candy. Costumed kids are scarce in years past, but we remain hopeful.  My neighbors will be hiding under their kitchen tables, afraid of that knock at the door.  They deserved to be egged….

Few residents,  and those the new urban pioneers….have put up decorations.  This is a far cry from what I remember in the countryside of New Jersey, where Halloween was a fun and spooky time. I have pumpkins out, not plastic ones, but pumpkins I have hauled from Whole Foods whose bounty has overflowed: this year I found the beautiful “Cinderilla” pumpkin, the one that was the carriage.  Since it is a heritage seed, I am hoping to have a garden of Cinderillas next fall.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Lady Nyo

It is almost Halloween.

The early dark of dusk

Creeps in before finishing

With the day–

Strange imaginings

Cause shadows to rustle,

Briars entangle

And nothing seems exactly –right.

In the mountains

Clouds dip low

Smothering the landscape.

Only the moan of wind

Round eaves shaking the skeleton hambones

Hiding in attic corners

Breaks the silence–

A strange cacophony.

Monstrous, ghost trees

Wedged together in

Stumbling rows,

Indian Snake arms

Wave warnings

To all who dare approach

Their Joseph’s –coat-of- many colors

Blasted by Autumn winds

Tearing around the mountain.

The hoot of the owl

Drives on dis-ease until dawn.

Roads dip and swell

In a frenzied, jagged run

Straight into the heart of danger.

Nerves uneasy,

There is too much mystery in this night!

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011

‘Autumn Rains’

September 8, 2011

 

The chilling rains

Have blasted leaves

From black-barked trees.

Too soon has this happened

Thinking there would be  time.

Time to marvel

At Nature’s robust palette,

To fill the eyes and senses

With ethereal beauty

No man-made tints can challenge.

But like most of life

We are behind

And lose out to clockwork

Not of our making.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010

‘Autumn Rain’ from “White Cranes of Heaven”, published 2011, Lulu.com

Autumn Tanka and a Poem, posted for d’versepoets.com

August 30, 2011

"North Carolina Stream", watercolor, janekohut-bartels, 2008

A long, hot summer is coming to a close.  Some tanka and a poem might cool us off,  and send our thoughts towards  Autumn.

Lady Nyo

Tanka 

1.

When Autumn enters

Inexplicable sadness.

Season fades to death.

Hunter’s moon sits in Heaven–

Garden spiders finish, die.

 2.

Autumn wind startles–

Lowered to an ominous

Key—Ah! Mournful sounds!

The fat mountain deer listen-

Add their bellowing sorrow.

3.

Out with the gold fish,

The bullfrogs croak their sorrow.

Summer is passing

Autumn brings sharp, brittle winds

But Winter is the cruelest.

The Moon Casts….

Autumn night winds

Hiss over the land

Round corners

And pulse under eaves.

Clashing windchimes add sharp discord

As bare branches answer with a grating groan.

Above all,

The moon casts a feeble light

Too thin to fatten the road. 

(this poem from “White Cranes of Heaven”, published by Lulu.com, 2011)

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011

Autumn Poem of Mid November

November 18, 2010

Canadian Geese in Early Winter, janekohut-bartels, watercolor, 2005

This waning Autumn season,

That bursts upon the mindscape

Through the vehicle of landscape

And mingles dazzling elements

Of color, odors, tangled undergrowth,

Where things are lost in each other

And plausible limits vanish,

And with the passage of days,

Or  a violent rainstorm—

The Earth is transformed in scarcity,

A stretching silence

Insulated by hoar frost and later snow,

Where color is corralled

Like an old black and white horse

Barely moving against bitter grey of day.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010

“Wind Chimes”

September 12, 2010

From a book to be published:  “White Cranes of Heaven”.

Lady Nyo

WIND CHIMES

Wind chimes peal in the night–

Tossed by high winds

racing round  eaves.

Dogs howl in the distance

Adding to a cacophony,

Discord upon discord

Like an orchestra gone mad,

Murdering the conductor

And throwing  tone poems

To a chortling Universe.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010

Autumn Cometh, Poetry, and Placating Unseen Gods and Demons.

September 21, 2009
Autumn in Kyoto

Autumn in Kyoto

Poetry has its seed in the human heart and blossoms forth in innumerable leaves of words….it is poetry which, with only a part of its power, moves heaven and earth, pacifies unseen gods and demons, reconciles men and women and calms the hearts of savage warriors.

Ki no Tsurayuki, Preface to the  “Kokinsuh, Ninth Cent.

The combination of heat and the tasks of summer sapped me of any poetic inspiration.  Perhaps the cat and dog fights of summer has helped there.  The 84 foot moat outside our dining room certainly helped disrail any peace and tranquility, perhaps the best soil for poetry.

Then we just await conditions to change and we get back into that ‘exit of the spirit’ as the Japanese say about the art of nuido, Japanese embroidery.  Surely that should be the same process for poetry, Japanese or otherwise.

Tomorrow is the first of Autumn.  I am putting together a small but growing manuscript of only poetry.  Works written over the past 3 years.  I have the title: “White Cranes of Heaven”.  But these poetry cranes are flying all over the pages right now.  They won’t settle down for a good look-see.

If people have read my poems, either in  “A Seasoning of Lust” or some posted here, they will see a Japanese influence.  I was a member of ERWA for three years and learned the different forms of poetry under the gentle mentoring of Gary Russell.  As did Nick Nicholson and a few others.  Gary put us through our paces on choka, tanka, haiku, sonnets, freeverse, (which ain’t necessarily free…) cinquains, more sonnets, etc.

The tankas seduced a couple of us.  I didn’t know until later the history of tankas; that they were written to celebrate victories in battle and love, for religious reasons.  The development of the form: nagauta or ‘long poem’ , was used for public celebrations at the imperial court.

I’m trying to expand outward, spiriling slowly and haltingly, stylistically.  But that’s mostly an issue of form.

I am hoping the magic and power of Autumn will break open my heart.

Lady Nyo

Untitled

Autumn night winds
Hiss over land, round corners, under  eaves.

Clashing windchimes add sharp discord
As bare branches answer with
A grating groan.

Above all,
The Moon casts a feeble light
Too thin to fatten the road.

2.
The rain does not cease.
It runs to stone gutters,
First splashes at my feet
And gurgles out to sea.

Jane, 2009

AUTUMN DUSK

September 8, 2009

AUTUMN DUSK

A stuttering wind blows across
Clouds tinted by the falling sun,
Brittle air softened by colors of peach-gold

And a faded azure blue.

A late flock of Sandhill cranes flies over,
Pale bodies blending in the
Fleeing white above with legs
Flowing like dark streamers,
Their celestial cries falling  to
Earth like harsh, chiding rain.

The trees below in the valley
Are massed into graying darkness
As the fading light steals
The color of nature,
Creeps from field to hillock
And all prepare for the
Rising of the Corn moon.

Even the frogs in the pond
Listen between croaks
For the intention of the night.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2009


%d bloggers like this: