Yellow Rosewhen a growl or snore,
even a thumping sound,
emanates from frozen lake!
No cause for alarm,
the ice is singing
its wild winter song.
The setting moon’s glow,
like a large yellow rose,
now settles above hills
in faint light of dawn.
Lainie Senechal
Winter Branches Watch Sunset
Winter Branches
At end of day
last flash of sun
hovers over lake;
we may be deceived
by its fuchsia brilliance
that travels quickly
from edge of horizon,
a jest of summer
behind bare branches.
But we are not dumb,
the peal of winter bells
ring under a waxing moon,
frost king marches forth.
Lainie Senechal
Harris Gardner Comments:
Beautiful poem with great imagery especially in the closing lines. The painting dazzles the eyes. It captures a degree of shimmering light. The trees , I think, show a Chinese/ Japanese influence with their delicate elegance. The painting produces a very dramatic effect. A very successful creation!
Winter SolsticeWinter moon peers
between branches,
as smooth as sticks.
Lost leaves that traveled
on the tireless wind
now lie along roads
or wind up in woods,
trampled by footsteps.
The moon’s enigmatic glow,
sensuous and ladylike,
softens the cold, still night.
Lainie Senechal
Announcement: Lainie will present poetry and watercolors in the new exhibit at the Kaji Aso Studio: Winter Branches, Winter Moon. Opening reception is January 16 from 7PM to 9PM, 40 St. Stephen Street, Boston. MA.
December Rosesa red rose blooms,
love we cling to
through persistent winter.
Seasons have slipped by,
our treasured rose remains,
desire’s burning flame.
Time is abandoned but
not the constant allure.
Are we love’s buffoons?
We are each others’ passion,
frolicking in this distraction,
under an endless spell.
Reasons to relinquish
lie around our ankles,
amassed like snowbanks,
white as angel wings.
Evening approaches,
the rose still blooms
and heaven is amused
by our unflagging folly.
Lainie Senechal
Moonlight Through the Pines
White Pines
veterans of many storms,
under blackened skies,
which crashed waves to shore.
Experienced in bearing
snows heavy burden,
with wisdom to capture
the pale winter sun,
when deciduous shells
stand silent, devoid
of all their leaves.
Possessing perches for eagles
and summits that
stretch to the sky.
Pumpkins
Mid-November
Prodigal trees have strewn
a wealth of leaves
onto the the lawn
which overflows into beds
emptied of summer’s blooms.
Winter ducks return from Arctic,
energetically feed on water weeds
below lake’s cold surface.
We gather a hefty harvest
to relieve the want
of winter’s harshest hours.
Lainie Senechal
Announcement: Lainie will be reading excerpts from Snowbound by John Greenleaf Whittier at the Holiday Open House at the Whittier Home, 86 Friend Street, Amesbury, MA. The Open House is from 1 to 5 PM on Sunday, Dec. 6.
Announcement:
Lainie Senechal has been chosen by the Amesbury Cultural Council to be the first Poet Laureate for the City of Amesbury, MA.
Autumn Gleanings #2
Early November
whose waves lightly pound
stones that line the shore.
A flock of yellow butterflies –
loosened leaves flutter in breeze.
Even black nights are bedecked
with bright diamonds.
No sudden changes to send
the howl of Arctic blasts;
mild November dances in
with utter delight.
Lainie Senechal
Autumn Gleanings #1
October’s Last Love Song
color of leaves into skin.
The wind plucks sweet notes
from golden branches and
strums stalks of reeds whose
shaggy heads sway to the sound.
The melancholy romance
of October’s last song
is carried on currents
into depths of blue and
caught on ragged edges
of behemoth clouds that
travel to other places.
I cannot remain here
and I cannot depart;
I am wound in tendrils
of intense infatuation.
Lainie Senechal
Announcement: Lainie will be exhibiting works of art in a group exhibit at Prudential Center (Huntington Arcade – Winter Garden), Boston, MA from November 5 – November 21, 2015. Opening Reception is Saturday, November 7th from 3 to 5 PM.
Distant Shore, Lake Attitash
October
To be alive
in leaf beautiful
misty golden time;
scent of wood smoke;
rich dirt lying
fallow until spring;
keen eye of hawk
circling brown fields.
Moments relinquished
like drifting colors;
no escape, a letting
go of all wants,
grateful to be free.
Soon, winter’s gray beard;
cold sinewy hands
will enter the land.
Lainie Senechal
Along the Shore
For only one day
to experience the ocean:
storm clouds have bundled
up into soft blankets,
settled along the horizon
leaving waves stirred
into white crests that roll
across wide expanses.
Wind whips their summits,
sends sea spray high
up to a sky of azure blue.
They crash gently against
the shore where sandpipers
on stick legs scissor
back and forth in front
of edges of foam.
Fine sand, pushed by breezes,
slides across the beach
in intricate patterns of tan.
A boat unfurls large sails, skims
beyond the strand to finally
disappear below horizon.
The air is cool, sun warms skin
on this first morning of autumn.
If I could spend only
one day by the sea
and you were here,
it would be enough.
Lainie Senechal
Published in the journal Ibbetson Street, Ibbetson Street Press, Somerville, MA 2009