The Garden of Verse: Three Poems in an English Journal... It's Like Seeing the Sun in an English Garden
I just received my contributor's copies of the Scissortail Quarterly, which features three of my poems. This issue was actually published in March, in England, but I think my copy got lost in the Covid time mails. My thanks to editor Brian Fuchs for publishing my poems., and then sending more copies. Because this journal publishes on paper but not online, I'm posting one of these poems, a praise song to Spring, below.
You can learn more about the Scissortail Quarterly here. https://scissortailpress.com/quarterly/
Here's the poem:
The Earth Is Like
“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart” -- Rilke, The Songs of Orpheus, No. 21
The earth is like a younger brother,
who follows his sun around,
copying his ways, rising from the ground each day
who returns from his eternal defeat
to eternal recurrence
Like the child
who refuses to take a nap
when his cankered eyelids are weighted down
with the heavy visors of fatigue
It’s spring again
The earth tu-lips his favorite rhymes
The earth demands to stay up late
to be feted with sweetmeats
and Sugar Pops
The earth is a child who stays home from school
who endlessly sings his favorite ads
who speaks truth to raindrops
who steals cigarettes from sleeping uncles
who plays silly songs from twenty years ago
on devices of his own devising
that only indulgent babysitters know
who hides brother Winter’s favorite toys
and refuses to give them back until Christmas
A child who demands a pet
to stay up late
to eat dandelions and green berries for supper
who demands to know a secret
and hear a brand new story every night
who demands to be heard
In spring the earth demands to be President
that his team always win
that the wind blow only at his back
In spring, the earth is born yesterday
and will live forever
that green berries turn blue, or red,
as required
That old songs will be sat upon his knee
to sing old men back from tired labors
to scrounge among barbs and brambles
and smell only of lilac in May
’
