home...-...blog...-...re: in/stance(s)..-...archive...-...about



Sometimes I go back
to the snows of my

Feathered birch bark kindled
the flames that ignited

Modest visions
of who
I could be, discovery

Those snows
melt not
then nor now, not

Where did
then go
snowy hope of that

I saw
between the
solstice nadir and fresh

(inspired by: Minnesota Landscape Arboretum)


Lost Sister

She takes on form and shape and comes into focus. She looks exactly like my sister, though I do not have a sister. Combing through my unwashed hair, the slenderness of her fingers on my scalp, we are transported to the Alhambra where we lose ourselves in the Generalife amidst the fountains and Tiger flies, the morning flashes of sun showing through her skirt. She is my sister. We eat sweet lemon and bitter orange and don't speak a word, silence strengthening our filial bond. I don't have a sister.

(inspired by: Generalife, Alhambra, Granada, Spain)



I rest now ashes buried deep on the surface
no box to confine my boney remnants
Richmond drew my breath at times most pleasing
So I chose her to return from where I'd been
Maybe I'd see the James flowing southward
Or I'd be trod upon by Bison that stand in the field
The fine arbor with grapevines will host more weddings than funerals
Though I'll sleep well there if that's where I lay
My essence may choose to linger amongst the roses or in the grasses
I'm pleased with them all, I'll know them again.

(inspired by: Maymont Park, Richmond, VA)



Cicada's Cry

I listened for the muslin Burka of heat
as it lay its pasty blanket
over the crying Cicadas
twisting on their silver branches

I saw sweet smells of viscous
sap bleed through the pores
of Bottle Palms signaling
bees to readiness for bee sex

Black light filled my nose
taking me into humid forests of
misty humid vapors that accosted others
but greeted me sharing their secret

I felt the songs of Macaws
and Parrots whose throaty
78s crooned like Ella and Satchmo

I never left as I
fled my swampy home
for manicured lawns of
fescue and imported orange trees
I remain always near my own Vizcaya

(inspired by: Fairchild Tropical Gardens, Coconut Grove, Florida)


From my Garden Series

Several years back I wrote a series of garden poems that were inspired by various gardens I'd visited. I was never really very into gardens until my wife Harriet took me exploring 25 years ago now I'm as likely as her to discover a new place for us to find. These are some of my favorites poems along with the gardens that inspired them.

- Michael J. Solender (website)


. .BluePrintReview - issue 30 - in/stance(s)