Spring

It is a few days before Spring, but so many people are longing for Spring weather that I thought this was a good time to place this in my blog. The poem was written for a Poetic Asides prompt
(May 6, 2009) to write a Spring poem.

Spring

Those think they know her
who see the flowery dresses
and sky blue bonnets she sports,

but some days she dons
a wintry snowflake outfit
with a dull grey floppy hat.

She cries so hard whatever
mud brown overalls she is
wearing splatter our expectations.

When she exhales she keeps her
own curly green tresses but messes
up any hairdos in her path.

As she skips along
we never know
where she will stop.

Sheryl Kay Oder

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This April Is a Ragged Poem

I know it is not April, but I hope to be doing a poem a day for Poetic Asides in April. 

This was a fun poem to write. Its form follows the month, lyrical and times and ragged at other times. 

This April Is a Ragged Poem

This April is a ragged poem
 I don't quite understand.

 Its rhythm, rhyme, and meaning
 don't seem at all well planned. 

 It started out all lyrical
 with trees and ponds and such.

But soon its form was upset and uneven, 
and Dean got soaked, and I was stuffed in a closet,
and the horse was road kill, and Bill Hayer died. 

Now I am home and keep getting tired, even though I was feeling better yesterday--
good enough to unclutter for Matt to enter a reasonable-looking house.
And yesterday when I called my fellow small group gal
(the professional organizer
who had offered me a ride) her mind had been so unorganized she forgot the meeting.
               It didn't help that I had sent her e-mail to the wrong address (using a 2
                not a Z) and she told me to remind her this week to come to the meeting 
and so this month-poem has neither energy nor organization. 

One stanza poured and poured and poured rain and whirled wind around
and created chaos all over some towns. 

Another one chanted sunshine, drip, drip, sunshine, drip, drip. 

My guess is a later stanza will be filled with mud 
and track its unwelcome, unmetered mess
onto a newly metered floor,
leaving unwanted muddy melodies where cleanliness was desired. 

I'm sure 
there is 
some kind 
of a segue 
into May

Sheryl Kay Oder