i am very excited to have another guest poet. his name is gary blankenship. gary is a grand poet and can do something ,with skill and heart, that i will not even attempt. he pens amazing haiku and other forms of Asian poetry. he also writes of his home and his life with words that give the reader the simple beauty of his day to day life and his travels. these are two of his poems that i picked to share with my readers. more of his work can be found on his website and on the links there to other sites he works in.

his site is, www.mindfirerenew.com



this poem is a favorite of mine.


The Father Poem

I have no father
poem. Blood or step.

I have
no mother poem,
though i should. She
canned pickles and spoke
her mind.

I have a grandfather
poem - where
his barn burns when he no longer
owns the barn.

I have a grandmother
poem. She was a saint
and raised seventeen children
on chicory and buttermilk biscuits.

I have started a poem
about my children. They will not
write a father poem.




Winter Comes Round Every Year


In the green bright growth of spring,
all the world seems to blossom,
all the sounds are voices of the young.
In spring, winds may topple nests,
rain may drench gardens,
but there is always time for games,
always a place to play.

In the high hard heat of summer,
all the petals seem to melt,
even thunder's voice is hoarse.
In summer, the earth may parch
and growth may slow to a crawl,
but there is always ground to clear,
always fruit to pick.

In the low yellow haze of autumn,
all the dress seems tattered rage,
all the voices muddled mutes.
In autumn, frost may chill our bones
and the days seem much too short,
but there's always wood to stack,
always memories to sort.

When winter comes around
around too soon again,
always bare to black bone,
always silent as white jays.
We forget where we were,
where we are,
and how to get where we are going.


thanks again gary