Posts Tagged ‘’

“A Winter Poem Outside My Window”

March 20, 2018


Don’t know who is hosting tonight, (it’s Bjorn!) but it’s Open Link Night where you can post ONE poem of your choosing.  It’s my favorite time of the month.


(Watercolor, Untitled, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2008)


The soil has lost its excellence.
The worms have gone deep into
The sullen earth and hide
I imagine curled up,
Embracing worm castings
And each other,
Desiccated former selves
Pale little ghosts
Awaiting the fertility of spring
The watering of a constant rain.

I squandered the bloom months,
Thinking paper and pen
Would bring its own blossoming
Scarcely noticing the vitality outside
My window,
Allowing cabbage moths and beetles
To dominate what I believed to be
My nod to farming,
To self-sufficiency,
My tithe to the earth.

Ah, the soil is hardened
By the sins of the season.
Sharp winds make
Their own furrows
The cold buries down,
Deep down
Torments any life
That would show its feckless head.
Especially those hopeful worms
Now bundled in worm-sleep.

The words, verse,
I chose to cultivate
Over cabbage, collards
Failed to bloom.
Better I had plied the hoe
And bucket to that
Than a fevered pen
To paper.

It is now winter
And the fallow earth
Plays a waiting game
Knows I have failed
In paper and soil
And mocks me with a barrenness
I feel inside and out.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2016

(This poem first published in “Pitcher of Moon”, 2014)



“Owls, babies….

March 4, 2018




owls, baby 2

(unfinished painting of baby owls by the author)

Haibun posted for

Almost every evening we hear owls…hoot owls, barred owls, who know what lurks out there.  Spring is when you hear the symphony of warble.

I remember years ago , when I first heard an owl very near the chicken coop.  I grabbed a rake and ran into the  coop with the hens.  I had no idea what monster lurked outside in the trees.  Turns out it was a hoot owl…6 inches high.  I stood guard for an hour.

In the spring you look for the songbirds, sitting on tender branches with tight little buds, unfurled yet, but soon to be colorful and scented.

The season of rebirth, the season of hope is contained in each bud.  It brings expectation to the heart.


Wildlife creeps in

Coyotes bark, owls hoot

We share the landscape





Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“Plum Blossom Snow”

February 22, 2018


My beautiful picture

Peach blossoms in the back yard. Spring

OLN (Open Link Night) over at dversepoets where you can post one poem of your choosing.  Come read some wonderful poetry there.

Lady Nyo

Plum Blossom Snow

The present snowstorm of
White plum blossoms
Blinds me to sorrow.

They cascade over cheeks
Like perfumed, satin tears
Too warm with the promise of life
To chill flesh.


This week I finally finished “Kimono”, a novel I have been writing for eleven years. This above poem comes from that novel.  “Kimono” will be published in a few months on

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“Glissando of Silver”

January 25, 2018

Aurora Borealis is open tonight to OLN (One Link Night) where you can post any one poem.  Come read the wonderful verse over there.

Lady Nyo

I can still hear the music
Coming over the valley,
A glissando of silver sound
My father’s French horn
All phantoms now,
The adagio of Mahler’s Fifth-
Heartbreaking, haunting  dreams,
The allegro of a Mozart something,
What I never knew
But quickening  the heart.

The Aurora Borealis
Dipped her chariot too low
Over our hemisphere
And a glissading curtain
Of celestial green
Ribboned the ink black sky.

My father saluted it
With a cadenza of Wagner
And a Music of the Spheres,
Drawn out in lyrical passages
Floated up to those green ribbons,
A celestial duet
With the Cosmos on one side
And a determined humanity on the other.

I can still hear the music
Coming over that valley
A haunting horn fading away
The man, too,
Both the essence of phantoms now
Into the territory of dreams.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018


“A Dish of Skylarks”

January 3, 2018


My beautiful picture

To the East….

Paul Scribbles over at Poetics —  What does ‘grace’ mean to you?  I can think of numerous things, but chose this poem below.

Lady Nyo



A dish of skylarks

Fell from the blue

into my lap,

And I, ravenous with

A multitude of hungers-

Ate them.


Between burps

one did escape,

shook himself,


And offered a feather.


I thought it gracious

Considering what I had done

To his neighbors.

The grace of life

Elegant, sublime, stirring

Come into my soul.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“One Reason for the Season”

December 14, 2017

A Pretty RedTail Hawk, NOT a Skylark….nor a Cooper’s Hawk.  janekohutbartels, wc, 2006 is taking a holiday and OLN (Open Link Night) is tonight where we are allowed to post one poem  of your choosing.  Come read for a year’s end selection of some great poems.

Lady Nyo


I saw the Cooper’s hawk this morning. She landed on the chimney pot, probably looking for my miniature hen, Grayson.  Eight years ago she was a starving fledgling who mantled over while I fed her cold chicken.  She’s back this holiday, my spirits lifting. A good Christmas present.

In the middle of the commercialization of Christmas, Nature closes the gap.  I have noticed squirrels with pecans leaping the trees, hawks hunting low over now-bare woods, unknown song birds sitting on fences, heard the migration of Sandhill cranes as they honk in formation. You hear their cacophony well before they appear.  Their chiding cries float down to our upturned faces.

There is brightness to the holly, washed by our late autumn rains and the orange of the nandina berries has turned crimson. Smell of wood smoke in the air and the crispness of mornings means the earth is going to sleep. We humans should reclaim our past and join the slumber party of our brother bears.

Jingle Bells will fade and our tension with it. Looking towards deep winter when the Earth is again silent will restore our balance and calm nerves with a blanket of Peace.


Winter’s seasoning:

Bitter winds, branch of holly

Haunts in the attic.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

“I feel the rain”….

November 13, 2017


(Wintered Geese, watercolor, 2009,  Jane Kohut-Bartels)

OPEN LINK NIGHT over at  Come read some marvelous poetry. Tonight is hosted by my dear friend, Kanzen Sakura, (AKA Toni Spenser).  AND! It’s her Birthday!!!!!


I feel the rain waiting to be born.

I hear the banshee wind

Race around eaves,

Scaring the haunts in the attic,

Making hambone frenzy with

hollow, powdery limbs.


Trees now tilting whirligigs

Ancient pin, water oaks

Dancing St. Germaine’s dance–

Frenzy below amongst quilted colors

Ruffling the feathers of nature

Tossing the spectrum wide.


I smell the mossy rain finally born,

Hear the clatter on a tin roof

Wind howling down rainspouts

Smell again the musty fog

Born of a sullen, moaning stream

And head for bed under the eaves,

Shared with a Banshee zephyr

And a ham-bone frenzy

serenading ’til dawn.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017




“Samhain, A Celtic Winter Song”

October 31, 2017



(Watercolor, “Dawn Ducks”, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2004)

Posted for Open Link Night over at  Come and read some great, non themed poetry!

Dark mysterious season,

when the light doesn’t

quite reach the ground,

the trees shadow puppets

moving against the gray of day.


I think over the past year

praying there has been a

kindling in my soul,

the heart opened, warmed

and the juiciness of life is

more than the loins–

a stream of forgiveness

slow flowing through the tough fibers

not stopper’d with an underlying


but softened with compassion.


This season of constrictions,

unusual emptiness,

brittle like dried twigs

desiccated by hoar frost

just to be endured.


I wrap myself in wool and

watch the migrations–

first tender song birds which harken

back to summer,

then Sandhill cranes,

legs thin black banners

streaming behind white bodies,

lost against a gunmetal sky.


They lift off to a middling cosmos,

while I, earth-bound,

can only flap the wings of my shawl,

poor plumage for such a flight,

and wonder about my own destination.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

“Chicken Hawk Talk”

October 19, 2017

Young RedTail Hawk, Jane Kohut-Bartels, watercolor

 Bodhirose ( Gayle) is hosing Open Link Night over at d’, where you can post one poem of your desires.  No prompt.

Lady Nyo

Chicken Hawk!

Leave my chickens alone!

I have worked hard for them,

A handmaiden of fowl.

Collecting beautiful eggs

The gift of the species

Naturally dyed

Pink, brown, blue-green and white.


These colorful gems

Presented at Easter,

A symbol of the Lamb of God,

And the Spring of Life.


Leave my chickens alone, hawk.

I won’t even share.


I remember two short years ago,

When I saw you wheeling over the kudzu

Riding the thermals,

Not graced with the brick-colored tail of a proper Red Tail hawk–


And I gasped at your splendor, a winged god

From the cosmos, glittering white ash against a cobalt sky,

And you landed one day in my birdbath,

Trying to look like a stone sculpture,

And just the flicker of your 8x eyes

Looked over the songbirds for lunch.



Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

“Autumn Dusk”

October 17, 2017

Sunset in a Violent Sky, copyrighted, 2007, janekohut-bartels, watercolor

Kim is hosting dversepoets tonight and the theme is Autumn.  Check out the wonderful poetry that will be on the site.




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
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, 2017


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