In the Month of May, Poem by Robert Bly

IN THE MONTH OF MAY
by Robert Bly

In the month of May when all leaves open,

I see when I walk how well all things

lean on each other, how the bees work,

the fish make their living the first day.

Monarchs fly high; then I understand

I love you with what in me is unfinished.
 
I love you with what in me is still

changing, what has no head or arms

or legs, what has not found its body.

And why shouldn’t the miraculous,

caught on this earth, visit

the old man alone in his hut?
 
And why shouldn’t Gabriel, who loves honey,

be fed with our own radishes and walnuts?

And lovers, tough ones, how many there are

whose holy bodies are not yet born.

Along the roads, I see so many places

I would like us to spend the night.

##

Painting: “Apple Blossoms I” by Georgia O’Keeffe (1930)

Spring Haiku by Matsuo Bashō

SPRING HAIKU

by Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)

The oak tree stands
noble on the hill even in
cherry blossom time.

Photo: “Young Oak Tree on Lydeard Hill (UK) at Sunset” by Rich Heath, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Spring Haiku by Matsuo Bashō

SPRING HAIKU

by Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)

With plum blossom scent,

sudden sun emerges

along a mountain trail

Illustration: “Plum Branches in Spring” (Chinese ink and watercolor) by Lisa Chakrabarti, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Spring Haiku by Matsuo Bashō

SPRING HAIKU by Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)

Traveling this high

mountain trail, delighted

by violets

Photo: Lee Hiller, 2010, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Late Spring As Usual, Poem by Marie Ponsot

LATE SPRING AS USUAL

by Marie Ponsot

The green vine is moving.

The motion’s too slow to be

visible but it is racing,

racing feeling for a way

across the wall of fence

it’s scrawling on, inches added every day.

Forwarding, sunwarding, it claims

its place. Green states its claim. It writes

the lesson of the day: longing,

longing coming true while arcing

out and up according to the instruction

of desire. Sun-hungry its tip has tilted

toward sun-space. Already

it is speeding leaf-notes out of its root

all along the sprigless budless thread

still scribbling the deed of its location.

In two weeks or one or four

morning                    glory.

Excerpt from the poetry collection EASY. Copyright © 2009 by Marie Ponsot. Find the collection at Amazon.com.

Photo: “Morning Glory Vines” by Linda D, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Balloonman and e.e. cummings

In Just-

poem by e.e. cummings

in Just-

spring          when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles          far          and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it’s

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer

old balloonman whistles

far          and             wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it’s

spring

and

         the

                  goat-footed

balloonMan          whistles

far

and

wee

Photo: “Balloon Seller, Turkey,” by Babek (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)