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Green
I’m talking green: the greening ground
Of spring and springing hope eternal;
The spectrum’s hidden light unbound
And animation of all that’s vernal;
The pulsing new-found energy
Of green, intoxicating green,
Candescent with viridity.
There is no other drug but green.
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The Luxuriance of Leaves
What is it but the play of light and shade
Among its many leaves; the graceful curve
Of green unfolding, splayed in unison
And drooping toward the dew-dropped grass at dawn.
Uplifted by the sun, made lemon-light;
Then touched by wind, made shivering blossoms-bright;
Bent and blowing hither-thither; verve
Of spring and summer; symmetry of fair
And shadowed shapes conjoined at twig and stem;
In harmony with spreading branch and bough.
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Cheryl Corey is a Connecticut poet. She is also an author of short stories, a novella, and recently completed a novel.
What lovely poetry. I was uplifted on both occasions as they engaged with this lovely time of years senses and sentiments. Many thanks.
Thank you, David. The color green is, for me, very uplifting. It has a vibrancy that, in many ways, invigorates us to begin anew.
Evergreen poems.
Congrats, Cheryl!
From your extolling of green, it must be your favorite color. I particularly loved your use of lemon-light, since so many leaves are translucent with your descriptive color in the spring, depending on the tree or shrub. “Viridity” was an inspired word to use. Pleasant reading such as this engenders pleasant thoughts.
Cheryl, these are refreshing spring-summer poems. I love the Latinate line, “Candescent with viridity.” A tiny suggestion on “Green”: leave out that “And” and start the fourth line with “Animation.” I like the rhythm better; it’s not perfectly regular iambic either way. “Luxuriance of Leaves” is a broad concept for a poem that might go on forever, or at least until fall. You’ve found good ways to begin and end and restrain the topic, not to mention adorning it with hyphenated words that reflect paired-leaf symmetry, and a few apt touches of rhyme.
The poet might also try this: just change the word “animation” to “catalyst.” This saves the line’s meter, and intensifies the “rare diction” that is the rhetorical heart of these two quatrains.
Thank you, Margaret. In the “Candescent” line, I wanted to impress upon the reader the warm glow I see when sunlight strikes the leaves. For a while I agonized between using “animation” or “reanimation”, but at some point you have to make a decision and go with it.
Great pieces Cheryl! They would be a pleasure all year ‘round, but especially this time of year. Thanks for sharing.
I enjoyed these brief nature pieces.
The repetition of the word ‘green’ worked well. ‘Verdant’ is a bit overused in such poems (I’m guilty myself) and ‘green’ just felt refreshingly simple to describe the overwhelming effect of the colour in the scene you paint.
As for the luxuriance of leaves, I can imagine you sitting out on the deck taking in the canopy of a nearby tree.
Thanks for the reads, Cheryl.
You’re correct, Paul. I was studying the canopies as I tried to convey my sentiments in the poem.
Some have said that my eyes are green, though on my driver’s license they are declared hazel. I interact with chlorophyll every day, as do all of us, and I am always looking for a green plaid shirt. Your poems are rather nice word-paintings, especially the first.
Thanks, C.B. After five to six months of drab winter, the greening of spring and early summer are almost like a shot of adrenaline. A lot of what I was trying to say in the first poem is who needs mind-altering drugs when you’re surrounded by natural beauty? But then, I’ve always been big on natural cures. Keep interacting with that chlorophyll!