March 20

Everything I saw that day

reminded me of another.

Two daisies in a glass bowl.

A discarded coffee cup (Starbucks).

Red spray paint, lipstick, a little bit of blood.

Never mind the window

speckled with mint green rain.

I wanted to lick it

but that would have been inappropriate.

Undignified. Quite.

But, since I've already

lost my mind a time or two. . .

more than that even. . .

What of it?

A mind is an easy thing to lose.

Don't even get me started on hearts.

That's another poem.

This one is about

my tongue licking mint green rain

and never you mind

I saw pumpkins and gourds on a March day,

orange and round, warty and yellow.

There's nothing to it.

I see what I want to see these days.

And afterwards I started jumping

because I determined

that's what you do.

And then you eat yellow daisies

or daffodils, if that's what you can find,

and you can, because it's March

and the Ides have passed.

You made it.

No one sticking it to you

this time, Caesar.

And death,

she's your friend,

but not today.

No, not today.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

OK, I went a bit wacky maybe, but I've been reading Ray Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing. So yeah, Happy Spring! :-)

Daffodils are poisonous, though daisies are edible, so please, don't actually eat!

Lambing

mid-March,

lion dots her i

with a little sun

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

Pacific Northwest

Green winter notes

in January

bleed into February--

scent of pine, lavender,

           honey in my tea.

We slice lemon,

bake salmon, peppery

and warm

           like you,

a wild, wild rose,

no hint of snow--

grow 'round my calves,

up my thighs,

hug my hips

a little tighter,

hold me

to spring.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

For Poetry Jam, Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, and dVerse OLN.

Resurgences (2 tenWords)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

winter garden

tiny grave beds

(tu)lips are whispering,

“come, spring”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tracing her scars

like braille, mouthing,

I

lived

to

tell

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse, the tenWord, a form created by Brian Miller.

Like Snowdrops

morgueFile

Ice blood

thickens, congeals

with spindly fingers

stretching across winter’s skin.

We bear the marks,

troublesome, melancholic,

after a year of sidetracked seasons,

of storms.  But wait

for hope

to spring, reveal

what in the dark

can grow.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

  

For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads