“Plum Blossom Snow”

 

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 Amazon.com.

 
Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

Plum Blossom Snow

 

 

Crabapple/Peach Tree in back yard, Spring

Frank, hosting dversepoets pub today has an excellent prompt about prose/poetry.  Haven’t a clue what is what, but it seems that I have been writing this stuff  anyway.  Probably because I don’t know what formal poetry actually is.  Come over to this site for the great poetry that this prompt is sure to gather.

 

 

The plums are blossoming…tender little white flowers on 5 year old plums.  They should be later but this weather is crazy.  Yesterday 80 degrees!  Today, 49 and a brisk wind.  I thought we were over Winter, it seemed never really to jell, but it’s back or will be in the next few days with below freezing temps. I see my French Breakfast Radishes have peeked above the soil, but they are hardy souls so the  freezing temps to come should not hurt them.

The light is so tender, gentle.  The swirling pollen will cover everything with an acid green/yellow soon, and already I am feeling the allergies.

Spring is a taunting maiden, blowing in with great promise and then disappearing at will.  Once the Earth pirouettes, this game will be over.

Lady Nyo

 

 

 

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.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2015

 

 

 

Spring 2015 and a Plum Blossom Snowstorm…..

Crabapple/Peach Tree in back yard, Spring

Spring has sprung, but it is tricky.  Two weeks ago we brought home 5 baby chicks….two days old, and they are all doing well in a box in a bedroom, sounding like little aliens with their strange chirpings during the middle of the night.  I worry that they aren’t getting any sun but there is a light that is on 24/7 over their crib but it isn’t sunlight.  It’s too cold for them to be outside yet, and I did gather them together last week when it was warm and took them outside.  Shepherding baby chicks is a bit like herding cats and I fast learned  they had plans of their own.  So back to their box they went and tomorrow I will put them in a ferret cage (sans ferrets) and at least they will have three stories to run and play.

Today we went and bought 6 fruit trees for a small orchard in the middle back of the property.  Just about the only place where grass was lush and growing, but it was the best place for the trees:  2 Arkansaw Black apples, over 8 feet now, two Fuji and two plum trees.  I miss my plums the most.  A few years ago the 15 year old plums tapped into the sewer system and cost us a bunch of coin.  They had to be cut down.  They were the first of the fruit trees to show blossoms and the first to lose those blossoms.  But they are now back and we have great hopes they will give us those luscious purple fruits.

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.

–

 

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  an evil chuckle.

–

No matter.

This argument will be over

Once the earth

Pirouettes on point.

 –

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2015

Some Tanka and a poem “Plum Blossom Snow”

 

Image from “Love Songs from the Man’yoshu”

We cut down the plum trees last fall and I miss their blossoms, usually the first blooms of spring here. And though the poem “Plum Blossom Snow” isn’t a new one, it makes me remember my trees.

I am comforted by the wild purple plum which blooms on the roadside in startling displays.

Lady Nyo
–

Let me not squander
The few good years I have left.
Each day the beauty,
The raw poignancy of life
Creates a desperation.

–

How could I forget
The beauty of the pale moon!
A face of sorrow
Growing thin upon the tide
Pulls my heart within its light.

–

Rain and moon tonight
Created confusion
Moon hides behind clouds
Fleeting clouds filter the rain
Moon appears– shoots silver darts.

–

When I saw your head
Upon the pillow we shared
Was this forever?
I am left with a pillow-
Cold feathers holding a ghost.

–

Autumn wind startles–
Lowered to an ominous
Key—Ah! Mournful sounds!
The fat mountain deer listen-
Add their bellowing sorrow.

–

Answering echo-
One heart calls to another
A plucked string vibrates
The poetry of lovers
Kisses the roof of heaven!

–

Plum Blossom Snow

The present snowstorm of
White plum blossom

Blinds me to sorrow.

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

–

Jane Kohut- Bartels
Copyrighted, 2014

Some of these tanka will go into the new book planned for later this fall, “The Nightingale’s Song”, to be published by Createspace , Amazon.com

New Haiku, “Cold Moon” and a poem, “Plum Blossom Snow”

 

“Spring”, watercolor, janekohutbartels, 2006

Writing haiku is like eating chocolates…once you start, it’s addictive.  I am early in this more formal study of haiku, so I am probably violating everything about them, but I am trying to first proceed from direct observation .

These  new ones I am collecting under the title:  “Cold Moon”.

Perhaps it’s the pollen, but it is definitely spring, and the weather outside is so tender and lovely.  It won’t last long, here in the South of USA because we generally get violent storms in this season, and then a long, long stretch of drought and heat.  But until that part of the season reveals itself, there is so much right outside my window, and in my gardens, and up in the sky to inspire.

Lady Nyo

Cold Moon 

 

The koi are hungry

Orange mouths gulp green water

Good the algae grows

 

Spring robins watch

Quarrelsome beasts these birds!

They don’t share the worms

 

Half submerged eyes

Of frogs in algae filled pond

Reflect cloudy moon

 

Swifts- dark crescent moons

Sickles cutting through the dusk

Tag the slower bats

 

 

Chatter of sparrows

Treble voices to spring song

Dried leaves percussion

 

Soft rains caress earth

A hand slides up a soft thigh

Cherry blossoms bloom 

 

Sultry air disturbs

The sleep of husband and wife

Panting without lust

 

 

POEM

 

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.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012

 “Plum Blossom Snow” was published in “White Cranes of Heaven”, 2011, Lulu.com

 

 

 

Spring, “Blackberry Winter”, “Plum Snow” and Rumi

Large Hollyhock and New Dawn rose

This spring has turned from destruction to outright, overwhelming beauty.  The roses are blooming, and yesterday, what I thought was an outrageous weed, turns out to be a giant hollyhock, growing straight through a white rose bush.  I almost pulled that ‘weed’ out a few months ago, but now am glad I didn’t.  I have tried to grow hollyhocks for years, scattering seed, but never had any luck.  This was a seed scattered 4 years ago, and I kept pulling it as it grew, thinking it was another obnoxious weed.   It outlasted my efforts and is now about 8 feet high.  Pink and gorgeous, but just blooming out.

Perhaps the tragedies to the north, south and west of us has made me appreciate this season more.  The budding beauties, the promise of rebirth, the renewal of things bare and dark a few, short months ago has overwhelmed me.  This miracle of life, with no batteries needed, no attention or commands is nature at her best.

I transplanted old, slow growing boxwood, real boxwood, not the Japanese junipers that are a good substitute for English boxwood down here, yesterday….switching them out with some new roses:  “April in Paris”.  I am a sucker for roses in catalogs and on the internet.  I am also a sucker for the roses at Home Depot, sitting in pots, yellowing leaves with black spot, and looking expectant and oh so homeless.  About now…I have no more room to put them in the soil, so they are transplanted into pots, which are more expensive than the roses….

Queen Elizabeth Rose

Perhaps it’s this expectancy of spring that makes snarly, grumpy people change their attitude and behavior.  I have noticed more smiles from strangers, a kinder behavior, perhaps a relaxing of tension from the long, very long winter.  There are nests of mockingbirds, bluejays, kittens being born, pollen, and as I write this a robin is uncovering the grave of a chipmunk I buried yesterday.

O, Pink Hollyhock!

I do think there is a softness with spring (my husband says there is a softness to my brain matter with spring…) and perhaps a good push to poetry.  There was a tiny crescent moon last night, what the Turks call “Allah’s fingernail”, and we will watch it grow night by night.  The sound of mourning doves as they settle in during dusk, the hoot of a Barred owl, the smell of the nightblooming datura….all these inspire poetry in the dark. During the morning we have enough for inspiration, and perhaps stopping our activities, going out into the gardens, the woods, even taking a walk somewhere different, will give the imagery necessary for poetry.

 

I came across a piece of Rumi yesterday….and I think Rumi must have loved nature as much as his fellow man.

 

	Come to the orchard in Spring.
	There is light and wine, and sweethearts
	in the pomegranate flowers.
	If you do not come, these do not matter.
	If you do come, these do not matter.

 What a gentle sentiment wrapped within these few words!

 

Two of my own poems follow….

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.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010 from “White Cranes of Heaven”, at Lulu.com

And one  more…just because this will be posted for Oneshotpoetry.com on Tuesday.

–

BLACKBERRY WINTER

It is Blackberry Winter

One last shot across

The bow of an emerging Spring.

–

Winter does not play fair.

It will not give up the ghost

Exit with a dignified bow

Preferring to show its rotting last tooth.

–

The blackberries are blooming

Frills of white collars surrounding

Kernels of lusty fruit,

Fruit black as midnight

Sweet as a baby’s kiss,

Unavoidable staining of hands and mouths

To be shared with a snake or two down below.

–

The Easter planting is done

The earth knows Winter’s game

And blankets seed

With dark, moist soil

Cozy enough to shelter tender life.

–

We will make blackberry wine

From Blackberry Winter.

The present chill will

Sweeten the fruit

And we will give a toast

To the frayed glory of Winter.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2011