“Spring Storm”….poem

 

sunrise to the east

 

It is early spring here in Atlanta, and nothing is usual about it.  The weather is weird, blowing from hot to cold, and tonight we are to expect freezing temps.  Unusual for the middle of April.

Spring  brings unsettled and dramatic weather across our nation. Tornadoes are the usual fare and this morning, the winds have picked up, blowing great gusts.  The wind chimes relay the power of the wind and I jump with their frenzy.  It is an unsettled time, this spring, but also one of excitement.   Nature is in command, and our petty concerns here down on earth, those things that drive us to distraction, fade in the face of Nature’s power.  The bellows of wind, the monstrous groans of limb on limb of huge oaks and pecans, well, these things capture our attention.  Life is played out in its fullness with spring storms.

Lady Nyo

 

SPRING STORM

 

The wind howls tonight

Races round eaves,

Disturbs the haunts in the attic,

Forces wind chimes

Into a metal hambone frenzy

The clash of harmony grates

On ears, on nerves

no sleep for this night.

 

There is death to the west

Fear in the vanguard.

 

It is springtime,

No gentle embrace

Just a blaze of destruction, despair.

Sanctuary

Is far down on the ground,

Deep as a cellar

Deep as the grave.

 

The moon above,

Sickly green sphere

Is in on the game.

 

The dogs howl

A Greek chorus

Echoing their primal fear

Over the landscape.

 

Each moan of wind

Heralds the apocalypse,

My eyes squeeze shut

Against grating of branches,

The rattle of panes

As I grasp for sanity

In an insane night.

 

 

I ride out the storm,

Dawn breaks,

The silence complete,

The earth placid and calm

As if the night before

Only a nightmare-

And I ridden from sleep

To the usual ground.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014,

from ‘Pitcher of Moon” 

My new book, “Pitcher of Moon” is available from Amazon.

Buy paperback: http://goo.gl/RzFRj4

Buy Kindle e-book: http://goo.gl/cOh8Ww 

 

Three Spring Poems….

 

Photo to the east

Spring Daffs, wc, janekohut-bartels, 2007

Today is the first day of Spring.  I am through with this long winter and look forward this tender season.  Already the red maple in the front garden is bursting with red helicopters of seed that fall with the developing winds.  The daffodils and grape hyacinths, the periwinkle and snow drops are blooming and the grass is daring to show a lushness that begs for a mowing.  I bought two foxgloves with the hope  of blooms   and a tray of red lettuce.  Of course next week will have colder temps overnight, but there is promise in the air.  This evening the sky was a mixture of pale blue and pink. The  doves were settling in the huge oaks and pecans, their cries  a mournful sound in the dusk light.

I think we are all grateful for this change of season.  Winter has stayed too long on the land.

Lady Nyo

–

 

Spring Moon

– 

The moon this spring afternoon

Floated high above the saddle of distant trees, hills,

As she pillowed on her part of the universe

Her face no more colored than a passing cloud.

 

She looked sleepy, tired—

Of course!  All this waxing and waning.

 

She looked down at me as she cuddled the pale sky

Just one eye awake,

A part of her mouth exposed

The rest of her face burrowed in a pillow,

 

No gleam, no interest  in prowling the heavens.

Just waking up—I expected her to yawn!

 

–

SPRING STORM

– 

The wind howls tonight

Races round eaves,

Disturbs  the haunts in the attic,

Forces wind chimes

Into a metal hambone frenzy

The clash of harmony grates

On ears, on nerves

no sleep for this night.

 

There is death to the west

Fear in the vanguard. 

It is springtime,

No gentle embrace

Just a blaze of destruction, despair.

Sanctuary

Is far down on the ground,

Deep as a cellar

Deep as the grave.

 

The moon above,

Sickly green sphere

Is in on the game.

 

The dogs howl

A Greek chorus

Echoing their primal fear

Over the landscape.

 

Each moan of wind

Heralds the apocalypse,

My eyes squeeze shut

Against grating of branches,

The rattle of panes

As I grasp for sanity

In an insane night.

  

I ride out the storm,

Dawn breaks,

The silence complete,

The earth placid and calm

As if the night before

Only a nightmare-

And I ridden from sleep

To the usual ground.

–

 Rude Spring

 

Sharp brittle wind

Sails like clipper glass

Cuts the skin razor thin,

And flays off winter.

 

This spring can’t wait.

It lies,

Promises comforting warmth

Yet delivers a numbing cold-

Too much in love with winter still.

 

I hear the laughter in the pines.

They moan, echo an evil chuckle.

 

No matter.

This argument will be over

Once the earth

Pirouettes on point.

 

=

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014

poems from “Pitcher of Moon”, published at Createspace, Amazon.com, 2014

http://goo.gl/RzFRj4 

Ode To A Cooper’s Hawk

was to be the cover painting for “Pitcher of Moon” but didn’t work out.

 

Did anyone see the new program “Cosmos” last night?  Wow, that was wonderful.  This is where television is relevant and educational. Neil degrasse Tyson is a great commentator and scientist.  I loved everything about the program, including the timetable.  It was interesting how the writers wove religion and science together in this episode, drawing on both sides of the coin. 

We need more programs like this. 

Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos” was one of the most important books I read as an adult.  Even my 101 year old Aunt Jean asked for a copy for Xmas a few years ago.  She is crazy about anything ‘space’ and had autographed photos framed on her wall of all the astronauts.  I hope she saw this program last night.  She would have loved it.

Lady Nyo

 

Ode To A Cooper’s Hawk

–

Come to me.

Come to me,

Winged celestial beauty.

Come to me with your notched

Mermaid tail,

Your silken roll of feathers.

Fly down into my hollowed-out soul,

Fill me with your sun-warmed glory

Nestle in my arms

And bring the curve of the horizon

Embraced in your outstretched wings.

– 

I need no white bearded prophet,

No mumbled prayer, no gospel song

No witchy woman, no charms or spells,

No hard church bench, no fast or

Festival to feel close to the Divine.

– 

 

The glory of the universe,

Is embodied in your flight

As you tumble through heavens,

Ride the invisible thermals

Screech with joy at freedom

Fill your lungs with thin air

And play bumper car with an Eagle.

– 

I, earthbound,

No hollowed bones to launch me,

Just tired soul to weigh down,

No soft plumage to feel the course

Of wind through glossy feathers

No hunting call to herald my presence.

– 

Still my soul takes flight

The breeze lifts my spirit,

My eyes follow you,

And we will find that glory

Transcend a sullen earth,

Transcend a mean humanity

And soar together into that deep blue of the Cosmos.

– 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014

from “Pitcher of Moon“

http://goo.gl/RzFRj4

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Alluring Moon”, a short poem

 

 

http://goo.gl/RzFRj4

 

I’m pretty passive about these opportunities, but I shouldn’t be. They are good experience and also sell books. But mostly, they are fun and a chance to read and hear other poets.

To those in and around Atlanta,  you are invited.

 

Avondale Estates’ monthly poetry reading will feature Jane Kohut-Bartels on Tuesday March 4 at Savage Pizza at the corner of Laredo and N. Clarendon. The evening begins at 7 p.m. with an open reading during  which anyone may read from original works or another favorite poet. Ms. Kohut- Bartels will read at 8 p.m.

Jane Kohut-Bartels is a writer of novels since 1990.  Presently she has five novels that she is completing and is publishing two in the next two years.  Since 2007, Jane has been writing poetry and presently has published 4 books of poetry, short story and one novella.  “A Seasoning of Lust”, “The Zar Tales” (this book includes “The Zar Tale”, a novella about Turkey and the Zar ritual and it’s attempted oppression by religious elements), “White Cranes of Heaven” (50 seasonal poems) and this January, 2014,  she published “Pitcher of Moon” (Poems of Gratitude and Spirituality).  She is to publish her 5^th book, “The Nightingale’s Song” from Australia in the fall of 2014.  These books are all available at Lulu.com and Createspace, Amazon.  Jane is also a member of the Anglo-Japanese Tanka Society in Kent, UK and is listed in the Bibliography of Tanka Writers in English, which is a world-wide compilation of published tanka writers, amongst other literature groups.  Jane specializes in medieval Japanese literature.  She also has been published in the prestigious 25^th  PoetsCRIT Journal published in Mumbai, India, and also is to be published this July in the same Journal.

 Jane maintains a blog at www.ladynyo.wordpress.com  that has had over 115,000 readers in the last 5 years.

Thank you, Friend Julia Ewen.

Lady Nyo

Alluring Moon 

 

The moon sits moored

In a midnight sea.

Clouds sweep her face

Shading a pale, wavering beacon.

 

She tugs at her moorings

And floats

Across upended bowl of Heaven

Into the harbor of dawn.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012

from “White Cranes of Heaven”

the picture is from GaryHartPhotography, (garyhart.com) and is the cover of my new book: “Pitcher of Moon” , now on CREATESPACE, Amazon.com

 

“Turkey Vulture”, from “Pitcher of Moon”

 

‘PITCHER OF MOON’ NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM!~

http://goo.gl/RzFRj4

 

 

(No, not a Turkey Vulture, but a bird of Hope)

From the same family  who once had Token as a sister, another sister who  stands for many of us as an example of compassion and sacrifice.  We should all be so.

Lady Nyo

–

TURKEY VULTURE

 

I once knew a woman

Living in a scrubby trailer park

Down near the scrub pines of Florida.

 

She was poor as a church mouse,

half–crazed by life.

She fed all strays

-was the pariah of the neighborhood.

 

Every evening a flock of vultures,

Like fixed-wing aircraft,

Would skim the pines,

And land in a muddle of feathers,

Awkward birds out of their element

Land and with a group waddle

Come to the cat food offered in pans.

 

They were patient guests

And waited for the strays to finish.

 

There was decorum

Among them,

These fierce looking birds

Perhaps they knew

The charity offered

Had humbled their nature:

Or perhaps they had reformed;

I don’t know

But they had a leader named “Frank”

Who held back until the others were done.

 

Frank would never face you;

He sat sideways

Though I believe he peeked.

Perhaps he was ashamed

A lord of the sky

Brought down to this station,

To fill his crop with kibble

From a dented metal pan.

 

Come sit with me.

Extend a feather,

I promise not to stare.

Your warty red neck,

Your hang-dog countenance

Does not disturb me.

 

Come sit beside me,

Let our talons dig into the sand

Let the ocean cleanse our feathers

I will call you friend, brother

For the gift of trust

You have brought on your wings.

 

 

 

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014

From “Pitcher Of Moon”