A Collection of 2022 Springtime Poetry

By Will Silver

Acknowledgements

Those who taught, I thank
Those who made revisions, too
And those who listened




Cover photo sourced from iStock

Table of contents

A Day, Here and Now: 4-5
One Rambunctious Night: 6-7
A Flowing Prison: 8-9
Pantoum for a Passed Pet: 10-11

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A Day, Here and Now

If there ever was a winter day so serene,
so tranquilized by electrifying, icy winds

that it made you want to bury yourself
far under each and every blanket in the house

and throw wood into the burning fire,
indeed, fuel the elegant flame to heights unseen,

a day when the snow covered sled hills
and the decorated tree stood up tall

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A Day, Here and Now

If there ever was a winter day so serene,
so tranquilized by electrifying, icy winds

that it made you want to bury yourself
far under each and every blanket in the house

and throw wood into the burning fire,
indeed, fuel the elegant flame to heights unseen,

a day when the snow covered sled hills
and the decorated tree stood up tall

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seemed so present in the moment
that you felt the urge 

to shut your eyes, closed tight
and sprint blindly into the wonder ahead,

leaving all but your most genuine self behind,
without a care in the world but for the day

so you might step into the deep, white powder
breathing with excitement

into this wonderland of white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

One Rambunctious Night

Through a bright, buzzing place I walk,
crummy symphonies of wild animals daub the air.
In the park, dogs bark as they mark their territory,
sectioning it off by lots they seldom share.

In alleyways, I hear fleeing felines stroll past my feet,
chasing birds, noisily desperate to get away.
Wing flapping, fluttering, they fly to safe haven:
a place protected; they ought to stay.

As gusts of wind whirl past me, on left and on right,
I direct my attention to the ground plenty with creaks.
Crickets rocket by me, on the left and on the right,
With unwarranted urgency, they squeak their shrill shrieks.

And the frogs are not far behind. Speedily they hop,
chasing tonight’s boisterous meal.
Annoyed, I continue, ears full of my environment's ring,
thinking: really, the sound of nature has no appeal.

One Rambunctious Night

Through a bright, buzzing place I walk,
crummy symphonies of wild animals daub the air.
In the park, dogs bark as they mark their territory,
sectioning it off by lots they seldom share.

In alleyways, I hear fleeing felines stroll past my feet,
chasing birds, noisily desperate to get away.
Wing flapping, fluttering, they fly to safe haven:
a place protected; they ought to stay.

As gusts of wind whirl past me, on left and on right,
I direct my attention to the ground plenty with creaks.
Crickets rocket by me, on the left and on the right,
With unwarranted urgency, they squeak their shrill shrieks.

And the frogs are not far behind. Speedily they hop,
chasing tonight’s boisterous meal.
Annoyed, I continue, ears full of my environment's ring,
thinking: really, the sound of nature has no appeal.

A Flowing Prison

          My paddle in water
  generates ripples that run
     fast away; watch them
traverse their way to the banks.
          As we float, it watches us.
          Stares back: acknowledges us,
 mistreats us, probably despises us,
                  yet ignores us—

  Whatever it can find, it throws
                in our crowded path, derailing us,
                 upsetting our serenity, like we do,
                   so unsympathetically, to it— 

Terrified by what lay beneath its
            liquid, mucky blanket, it mocks us;
             hides creatures of the deep
              just out of sight. But,
          we sit ready, armaments in hand,
       to fend off the Loch Ness fiends it, so
                     sinfully, will call—

           I imagine swimming away, climbing
                 up the sides of the bowl that callously
                    entraps us—

        Soon, I thought, I’ll escape; 
I’ll stand above the highest rock
  looking down upon my measly self
                                            and think—

“King of the desert,”
“that could be me.”

Pantoum for a Passed Pet

When shining eyes cease their shine,
I feel my voice begin to crack,
The days ahead seem so few,
But, you look back with soft eyes, poking a tender heart.

I feel my voice begin to crack,
While I sulk in a warm bath of fond memories we shared.
But, you look back with soft eyes, poking a tender heart;
If only we had just a little more time together.

While I sulk in a warm bath of fond memories we shared,
I hole myself up tight with you, paw in hand, thinking
If only we had just a little more time together.
I know it’s time to say goodbye.

I hole myself up tight with you, paw in hand, thinking
The days ahead seem so few.
I know it’s time to say goodbye
When shining eyes cease their shine.