Permaculture Poetry

Haiku, a collection (because April is National Poetry Month)

A neighbor's rooster
crows and breaks the gray silence
Dawn sun arises

Pale yellow sun breaks
winter sky of frosty blue
Songbird symphony

Spring, yet not spring. Birds
twitter and chirp, winter lurks
behind the north wind.

Chicka-chicka-CHIT!
Scolding chickadee ignored -
Cat on a mission.

Clear sky, bright white sun,
Brisk wind biting my nose and cheeks
Winter is still here

Empty pasture waits
Goats stand at the gate and stare
Winter grass is scarce

Streaks of dappled grey
reach across the sky. No sun.
Will it rain today?

Misty shades of sky
No brightness to mark the sun
Rain smiles from the clouds

Damp drizzly morning
becomes rainy afternoon
Indoor work today

Small puddle reflects
grey calm behind fleeting clouds.
Small splash, sparrow bath!

Crisp sharp air pierces
my breath. Dark stillness broken,
coyotes calling

Spoon poised, sudden dark,
Silence loudly fills the house -
the power is out.

Dull muddy sunrise
rain-gray clouds overshadowed
brilliant red breaks through

Drip speckled cat coat
Wet paw prints on hardwood floor
It's raining again

Puddle splash, rain rings,
Step carefully or wet feet!
Birds chirp, they don't care

Wind whips bare branches
Thunder announces a storm
Instant pelting rain

Hair blown in my eyes
clouds racing across the sky
cold weather returns

Snow flakes on whiskers
Paw prints on the snowy steps
Meow! Let me in!

Red cardinals, white snow,
green and yellow daffodils.
Colors of winter

Bright yellow on drab,
Winter's first promise of spring
- daffodils!

Head tall, watching all
feather sheen in black and green
strut, strut, pause - Rooster!

Crisp brown crunch beneath
soft grey paws. Pause. Green eyes fixed,
tail whips. Wrens beware!

Dog prints in the mud
Feathers scattered on the ground
Muscovy duck dead

Frost on the rooftops
Sun rises over pale blue
A warm day promise

High pitched screech aloft
like you hear in the movies
but this hawk is real

Chattering treetops
Branches alive with starlings
What do they discuss?

Crows call an alert!
All eyes scan the skies. A hawk?
Far above, he's there

Four little noses
Eight hoofs, four tails, mama's milk
Newborn baby goats

Frilly lettuce leaves
scalloped leaves of collard greens
winter's survivors

Dots of daffodils
bright yellow on winter drab
Robins everywhere

Robin speckled fields
The hunt for earthworms is on
Flight! Northbound again

Thank you for this quality post
I'll give an apple so that you can boast.

I enjoy your beautiful haikus but can you please write a funny one about the musical tuber, sunchokes?

This was a great start for the day! Highly recomended post.
* * * * * / * * * * *

Clay Bunch wrote:I enjoy your beautiful haikus but can you please write a funny one about the musical tuber, sunchokes?

This was a great start for the day! Highly recommended post.

Clay, thank you so much! The theme for this collection was pretty much winter and spring. I'll work on a collection for summer! In the meantime, I hope others will join in and share their poetry. :)

Rhododendron call me home
I was tempted by the Indian paint brush that painted wide swaths of the plains under big sky still I am called
I remember fondly the blue eyes of forget me nots
winking at me along the shore as I paddled over the salmon coming home to kenai
still I am called
I was courted by the blue bonnets of Texas
I danced with the scarlet prickly pear on the south rim and then the lupine on the north.
still I am called
My heart was over come by a passionflower in the Everglades surrounded by my favorite creatures
still I am called
I took pleasure in Colorado's concubine of columbine
Idaho's supple syringa serenaded me with the birds of her bosom
Wyomings bitter root was beautiful and breath taking
Still I am called
I given my heart to the chicory and bluegrass and they comfort me in ole Kentucky
But still I am called
The rhododendron and the laurel of Cherokee call me home.

Checking the pots no
Not yet no green shoots to see
Waiting for my beans

Don't poke and dig there
I need more patience for this
gardening from seed

A seed underground
what a miracle it is
life in a dead shell

(hopefully... still waiting!)

If life is like a garden,
What kind of seeds do you sow?
Do you sow the seeds that help the world,
Or plant plants that are only for show?

The fairest of gardens when left to time
Will end up overgrown.
And in the hands of time, you yourself may find
You will reap what you have sown.

Expected to talk,
but some days I have no words.
Nature speaks for me.

Jordan Holland wrote:If life is like a garden,
What kind of seeds do you sow?
Do you sow the seeds that help the world,
Or plant plants that are only for show?

The fairest of gardens when left to time
Will end up overgrown.
And in the hands of time, you yourself may find
You will reap what you have sown.

Really liked this one.
Here's one I wrote a while back for the blog:

The earth doesn't need us. How does that make you feel?
Taste a poem.
There are no consequences for your actions. Do you give or do you take?
Feel a song.
The one substance needed for life to exist rains from the sky in vast quantities, yet we buy it in small toxic containers from people we don't know only to throw the container away so someone else will throw it on the ground somewhere we don't have to look at it anymore.
Smell a landscape.

View the world.
Sense your place in it.

Ezra Beaton wrote:

Jordan Holland wrote:If life is like a garden,
What kind of seeds do you sow?
Do you sow the seeds that help the world,
Or plant plants that are only for show?

The fairest of gardens when left to time
Will end up overgrown.
And in the hands of time, you yourself may find
You will reap what you have sown.

Really liked this one.
Here's one I wrote a while back for the blog:

The earth doesn't need us. How does that make you feel?
Taste a poem.
There are no consequences for your actions. Do you give or do you take?
Feel a song.
The one substance needed for life to exist rains from the sky in vast quantities, yet we buy it in small toxic containers from people we don't know only to throw the container away so someone else will throw it on the ground somewhere we don't have to look at it anymore.
Smell a landscape.
View the world.
Sense your place in it.

Ezra. Love this! Smells like synesthesia. Tastes like home.

Poison Flora

Three leaves stare at me
Daring me to fight
Taking up my pathways
Everywhere in sight.

Growing up, they prosper
Choking out the good
Stopping me from walking
Through our shaded wood.

Three leaves stand boldly,
Daily congregate
Stealthily taking over
One goal: to dominate.

I stand in quiet horror
Our sanctum so deluged
Evil shoots intruding
Despoiling our refuge.

Fighting it is honour:
So with vinegar and Dawn
I go out with a sprayer
Against Toxicodendron.

The battle will be long
I know it's not a coup
But I will keep on spraying
Until three leaves' days are through.

-- Copyright 2023, Sharilee Swaity (Shari Clark)

(Inspired by my ongoing battle with the poison ivy in our little homestead.)

Leigh Tate wrote:Haiku, a collection (because April is National Poetry Month)

A neighbor's rooster
crows and breaks the gray silence
Dawn sun arises

Leigh, this is very nice. You really get the feeling of the passing of different seasons and weather. So apt because haikus were originally supposed to be about nature.