A Collection of 2022 Springtime Poetry
By Will Silver
By Will Silver
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AcknowledgementsThose who taught, I thank
Those who made revisions, too
And those who listened
Cover photo sourced from iStock
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Table of contentsA Day, Here and Now: 4-5
One Rambunctious Night: 6-7
A Flowing Prison: 8-9
Pantoum for a Passed Pet: 10-11
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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—
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—