Category Archives: Poetry Corner

Poetry Corner: Blossom Bride

 by Jim Farfaglia

 

Once a year she appears,

this spring bride all aglow;

ready to take her vows again

just beyond my kitchen window.

 

Oh, how her white gown shines

next to new and ever-greens;

the gray of winter fading fast,

her blossoms pure as dreams.

 

She stands with arms reaching,

joyful to marry this season;

we witnesses, content to wait,

for joy is the best of all reasons.

Poetry Corner

Muck Farm Moment, by Jim Farfaglia

I love to drive by them in spring,

black soil waking my winter eyes

weary from landscapes of white.

 

Oh, how their richness stretches far,

how they open  with such promise

and foretell a bountiful season.

 

Soon, farmers will draw their tractors

back and forth, back and forth,

breaking open that promise

 

and planting it with hope;

trusting sun and rain and time

to reward their months of toil.

 

One day, their dreams come true

in a green, glorious goodness—

something we can only imagine

 

when we drive by each spring.

Poetry Corner

Daffodils, by Jim Farfaglia

I like them best when they appear

in the ditches of rural roads,

hugging the trunks of apple trees

or lined up along neighborhood homes.

 

I like them best when they cluster,

as if someone from down below

broke through an endless winter

to hand us a bouquet all aglow.

 

I like them best when just opened,

their pale yellow abeckoning,

their delicate petals forming a cup,

where we drink in the birth of spring.

Poetry Corner, by Jim Farfaglia

Sensing Spring, by Jim Farfaglia

Mother Nature has entered

a Crayola Crayon contest

and wins first prize

for best new shade of green.

She calls it “Springtacular.”

Mr. Skunk has returned,

leaving behind his calling card;

I find myself almost grateful

to smell something other than

the dead of winter.

The earth sings again:

my backyard a concert hall,

its icy demeanor warming,

the gurgle of melting snow

murmuring a pleasant melody.

Crocuses pop up everywhere,

like raised hairs on the arm

of an excited world.

I brush their tops

and I bristle, too.

The kale has wintered over.

I strip off a leaf or two

and chew:

Fine dining at the local café,

reopened for the season.

Poetry Corner

Mis-seasoned, by Jim Farfaglia

At the east end of the Oneida St. Bridge

in a vacant lot below,

collected from our drawn-out winter

rises a mountain of snow.

 

Added to truckload by truckload,

measured in yards, not feet,

formed from Mother Nature’s insistence

of blanketing our city streets.

 

November to March it gets piled,

‘til one day when crossing our river,

we look down at winter’s harsh toll,

its immensity sending a shiver.

 

Though our fancy calendars may tell us

its time to start living in spring,

we need only look from atop that bridge

to know which season’s still king.

Poetry Corner

March Madness, by Jim Farfaglia

 

Somebody above missed the message

that winter’s officially done;

the white stuff keeps fallin’,

the big trucks keep plowin’

and nobody’s having much fun.

 

We’ve had enough of skiing,

of sledding and cute snowmen;

still the temperature ain’t risin’,

and golfers are agonizin’

over when they’ll see green grass again.

 

I’d be happy to deliver the word

if I could just find Mr. Sun.

It sure would be pleasin’,

if we had a new season;

here’s hoping he sends the right one!

Poetry Corner

After an Adirondack Snowstorm,
by Jim Farfaglia

The world is black and white again;

uncomplicated…

even a mountain range of fir trees

softly darkens

and every branch, bush and boulder

gently hold

a million  flakes, so quietly balanced,

like life here

where a telephone wire’s sole purpose

is to guide me

on the pathway of my peaceful heart.

Poetry Çorner

A Winter Truth, by Jim Farfaglia

 

Only after an Oswego County winter,

after our spirit has been buried deep,

 

can a rabbit hop onto a snow mound

and rise up on its hind legs

 

to nibble from the top branches

of a succulent shrub,

 

enjoying something so life-giving,

like that first sign of spring:

 

long dreamed of, but unreachable

without living through a long hard winter.