Posts Tagged Poetry

8 Yrs.

8 Yrs. . . .

Garden Top: “Where nature and the city intersect.”
(NYC 03 22 2017)

Happy 8th Anniversary, Wildflowers of the West Village.

– rPs 03 22 2017

Postscript: You can revisit the view that instilled an ever growing idea in March 2010: https://wildflowersofthewestvillage.com/2010/03/22/welcome/

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Autumn Whites

Autumn Whites . . .

White Aster & Snakeroot (Manhattan, NYC, 11 2016)

White Aster & Snakeroot
(Manhattan, NYC, 11 2016)

Russet variation of deciduous oaks and maples see their feet dressed in filigree of wildflower white as sparse as lace, or as morning frost on lawn, or the first accumulated dusting of flurries.

Friends appear like snowflakes clung to a window. … ”

Lines of poems shaped like prose recited aloud in the out of doors can be a symptom, if one allows it, of mind, perhaps your own, ruminating, meeting, encountering such attractive intersections of nature and the city.

Here it remains, on the west side of Manhattan, where civil island meets tidal river at a time when sun sets are fast and temperatures bring a shiver.

The cold months are hinted on the rippled gray sky, felt on the wind, not far.

– rPs 11 21 2016

 

Postscript: Thanksgiving is on the menu. Centerpiece: Wildflower White (Asteraceae, various)

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Three Gravestones

Three Gravestones . . .

 

Van Cortlandt Park Massacre NYC Spring 2016

SHAME: Part of the vast ongoing massacre of old deciduous trees falling to the saw in Riverside and Van Cortlandt Park this season. (NYC Spring 2016)

I.

Better views demand now.

Immigrants turned “invasive!”

Old trees around cut down

By naturalized non- natives?

 

Cattails In Seed Spring 2016

Cattails: Spring Gone To Seed (NYC 2016)

II.

Passing, cattail flowers seed,

Parachute lives, each on its own,

Scattered, carried, by the wind

Betting to reach free ground.

 

Willow NYC Spring 2016

Willow (NYC 2016)

 

III.

Green, again,

Gone the limber down.

Bead chains of brightest green

Drape over rain swelled brown.

 

– rPs 04 18 2016

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Postscript: April is National Poetry Month. Enjoy.

https://www.poets.org/national-poetry-month/home

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Report Illegal Tree Cutting in NYC here:

http://www.nycgovparks.org/services/forestry/illegal-tree-work

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in memory of Robert L. Bogaski, Jr. (1949-2016) . . .

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Slanted December Sunset Light

Slanted December Sunset Light . . .

Green Side of The Path (NYC 12 2015)

Green Side of the Path
(NYC 12 2015)

Why the sudden inclusion of Poetry to Wildflowers of the West Village? The answer can be traced back five years and some months to an “Ode to Onion Grass” that served my intent in art history, an extended appreciation of Albrecht Dürer.

Most of my poems shared at Wildflowers of the West Village have been subtitled “for insert historical figure’s name here.” Each strives to serve as a summation of sorts. Their existential whole, their individual presence, how has it remained felt in the accompaniment of my own one life? The poems answer.

How my educations, my ethics, my politics, my essential tastes in entertainment and recreation have been directed somewhat can be referenced by their keyword names in their broad honor.

Antecedents. Progenitors. Kin.

The cadence of my rhetoric,
Clear enough to my mind,
Best to share my best,
Universally, no gratuity.

A poem lives by readers, not sales. Sails in my sights have been those boats engaging the Hudson tidal stream. I see them when running the river paths. Running from something? No, on my feet, I am not. My pace may rather be equated to running for something, toward something, pushing for sustained strength, pausing, still, to watch a small town arrangement of wildflowers greet the west wind and the slanted December sunset light.

Green almost Loden bathed in Gold.

– rPs 12 09 2015

Postcript: “Green Side of the Path” photo starring Artemisia, Persicaria, Solanum, Malva, and Galinsoga.

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Day Without Art 2015

Day Without Art 2015

(an oxymoron for Aristotélēs)

 

Sweet in sustenance
Swims this combustible
Carbon water brain.

This blob tells me,
Compels me,
Yells at me.

Scanning other computers
All commuters,
In unison, yeah.

Cloud composed, composer,
Lack of composure.
Just right, suppose, or.

Sophistry some-ocracy, yes,
Suppository idolatry, yea,
Each on purveys.

Hey!
Hey!
Hey!

This Is Politics:
Opinion. Rhetoric.
Not Poetry Poetic.

 

Enduring November Rain 11 2015

Enduring Rain (NYC Late Autumn 2015)

 

— rPs 12 01 2015

 

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14 novembre, 2015

14 novembre, 2015 . . .

pour Albert Camus

War in Europe, again.
How ironic
And how parallel

To continental
Historical cycles
This conflict has arisen

To Whenever,
To Wherever,
Perpetual war cataclysm.

We people are a species
Stuck rocking
On our own rodent wheel,

Rolling
Rock of our own
Rolling.

— ron P. swegman
— 14 novembre, 2015

Enduring November Rain  (NYC 11 2015)

Enduring November Rain
(NYC 11 2015)

— rPs 11 14 2015

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Thin Ice

Comme Il Vous Plaira

Cold calms it down
Despite the light of live fire.
Brown, white, and blue
Rush red flush in full attire.

This, That, and Thine
Locked on the city of lights.
Your time and mine:
Most necessary of rights.

Hielo Fino in Manhattan (January 07 2015)

Hielo Fino in Manhattan
(January 07 2015)

— rPs 01 08 2015

Postscript: My opinion is my own and includes the belief that I am as a creative writer and professional journalist an individual who cannot condone the brutal slaying of fellow journalists no matter how they may have expressed themselves in media. The events in Paris on January 07, 2015 should serve notice that a global restraint on violent reactions to free expression must be accepted, adopted, and enforced in full. No one or thing, not even in the name of a sacred human conception of God with a capital G. has the right to take another human life. Murder is an immoral, an inhumane, an incorrect act that discredits the dignity of us all.

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