Bev Tappan

Category: Poems

All poems

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE WEIGHT OF WINTER

    THE WEIGHT OF WINTER

    The spruce is still bowed down by snow

    Below my north-facing window.  Its limbs

    Droop sadly, unable to bear the load

    Of yesterday’s twenty-four hour storm.

    Yet across the road the pines have risen

    Branch by branch, shaking off their burdens

    As sun and breeze set them free until

    They stand tall again, undiminished,

    Proud to have weathered another of winter’s

    Relentless assaults, green and regal.

    I think how much difference a little sunlight,

    A little warmth, can make in a life.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: THREE HIKERS AND A DOG

    THREE HIKERS AND A DOG

    A flash of orange bounds across our snowshoes.

    Checker, the black and white Australian shepherd,

    Wearing his lustrous “Hunters, don’t shoot me!” coat,

    Checks up on us as we crunch along White Lake’s shore.

    We watch him tree a saucy squirrel not at all

    Fazed by his leaps and sharp impatient barks.

    Our eyes are drawn to jagged cavities drilled

    In the trunks of pines by woodpeckers after bugs.

    We hear a raven’s hoarse foreboding croak

    And note the jumbled prints of skittering voles.

    Here where the track accesses the shore we take

    A shortcut over the lake.  Checker says “Hey!”

    To an angler who’s driven his truck and fish shack

    Onto the ice but reports, “No dice!” for a catch.

    Halfway around we reach the beeches.  Our poles

    Break free of entangling brush whose name we can’t

    Recall.  We learn the dog has a checkered past:

    Rejected by his siblings, he was the outcast,

    The runt about to be dispatched, but love

    Has prevailed.  He’s now a lively obedient rover.

    Nearing our cars we are brought to a halt.  A mountain

    Bike with snow tires stops our forward momentum.

    We understand Checker’s anxious barks.  We feel

    These forest paths were meant to be trodden by feet.

    Out of the west a wall of darkness dispatches

    The sun and a wintry wind assaults our backs.

    We are just in time to retreat to Rosie’s for lunch,

    Safe from the blast of a fast moving polar vortex.

    Checker curls up for a nap in the back of the van.

    It’s time for next week’s outing to be planned.

  • REUTEMANN ROAD POEMS: OUR JON

    OUR JON

    Our first born son was tolerant of

    His sister, born just fifteen months

    His junior, but he teased his younger

    Brother, who followed two years later.

    And yet, he helped Dan land his first

    Big bass, jaws locked on the lure

    Of a toy fishing rod, and he took

    The punishment for an annoying noise

    That Dan, not he, had made.  Jon set

    A high standard for high school grades

    And he got handy with Tandy in time to manage

    Data banks before computer classes were taught.

    Jon’s first puppy love was Sprite, his beagle,

    And later he loved three winsome collies

    And Becky, their owner, as well as his tall

    Dark-haired daughter, who shares his love

    Of all things and customs Japanese:

    He critiques animes, practices Shin Buddha

    Meditation, savors sakes, sleeps well

    On futons, kneels gracefully at tea tables

    And wields his chopsticks with skillful ease.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: AS PLAIN AS BLACK AND WHITE

    AS PLAIN AS BLACK AND WHITE

    Except when the next polar vortex

    Launches its ice shafts from the Arctic

    The winters in northern Maine ain’t

    What they used to be.  Our partially frozen

    Lakes no longer hold up our trucks

    And fishing shacks.  Our skis skid

    On glazed and glistening worn-down snow.

    On this first day of the new year

    The Androscoggin still flows free

    From Gorham east to Rumford, where

    Another dam delays it long enough

    For icy platelets to collect and merge

    Into almost-circles of white on black,

    An abstract Escher-like design or pattern

    That seems to hold some urgent message

    For those with eyes wide open to see.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: COLD COMFORT

    COLD COMFORT

    I heard that flannel nightgowns

    Are no longer to be found

    In Target or in Wal-Mart

    So I looked to Amazon

    And luckily they still offer

    In every size and color

    A plethora of nighties.

    From autumn into spring I

    Snuggle into scarlet flannel

    Bedecked with caroling cats

    Worn over lycra tights.

    Nothing there is more comforting

    On cold and cheerless nights.

  • REUTEMANN ROAD POEMS: OUR CHRISTMAS CAROL

    OUR CHRISTMAS CAROL

    We named you for the season but we did not

    Know what elfin influence your name would bestow,

    For as we came to learn in later years

    You were the mischief maker in the family

    Who dared your younger brother to walk buck

    Naked in the snow to the wall and back,

    Enticed your younger sister to taste a little

    Temptingly sweet-smelling acrid vanilla

    And your baby sister to try a bite of dog fare.

    Treasure hunts in the mossy clearing were your

    Work and forced marches down our gravel drive.

    Big sister led her siblings a merry chase

    For which she has long since been forgiven because 

    She also led them to Bye Bye Miss American Pie.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: OUR SARAH

    OUR SARAH

    On the night you were born the snow had fallen all day,

    Drifting, walling us into our house on the hill,

    And since we knew that you were on your way

    We waited and prayed for the plow which did not come.

    As dark approached we thought to ride the toboggan

    To meet with a cab on the road at the foot of the Heights.

    Of course the plow did finally come in time

    But that is how I think of your arrival:

    A flight straight into our hearts over whispering white.

    And that is why I think you were the child

    To try a skateboard, parachute out of a plane,

    Ride on your Yamaha into the White Mountains,

    Run your half-marathons and keep up

    With your fast-peddling husband on mountain bikes

    And hundred mile road races, and why

    You still keep moving, living life on the fly.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: A CHANGE OF MOOD

    A CHANGE OF MOOD

    The storm has passed.  The pines bend low

    Beneath the ruthless weight of snow.

    The air is thick.  My spirits sag.

    This dismal day bodes news that’s bad.

    Our power’s out.  The house is dark.

    The frigid car is loath to start.

    But down the road an hour or so

    A patch of blue sky starts to show.

    A hint of sunshine lights the sky.

    And soon the pines begin to rise,

    Flaunt white Christmas bows and ties

    Sparkling gaily in the sunlight.

    Then I begin to realize

    That my despair will lift in time.

  • JAPAN POEMS: 22 HAIKUS

    TIME TRAVEL #1

    Westward to Japan

    We fly into tomorrow

    Before today ends.

    JAPANESE TODDLER

    Petite and sad-eyed,

    When gifted with a toy car

    She glows with wonder.

    JAPANESE FATHER

    The headphones he fits

    To his daughter’s tiny head

    Are like a blessing.

    FALL REUNION

    Three old Japanese

    Comrades smile for our camera

    At the Buddhist shrine.

    GINGKO BILOBA

    Maidenhair fossil

    Tree, you are said to be the

    Cure for all life’s ills.

    jAPAN CITIES

    Swarming urban hives,

    Every bus a cattle car,

    Each crossing, Times Square.

    FORECAST

    Japan, exemplum

    Of the word “congestion”:

    Our planet’s future.

    THE PHILOSOPHERS’ WALK

    Lined with cherry trees

    By a flowing waterway,

    A respite from crowdS.

    A FAR CALLING

    From the Zushi train

    We see a glimpse of Fuji,

    Clear but far away.

    THE TRAIN TO TAKAYAMA

    Along a river

    Cut into volcanic rock

    The night falls early.

    TAKAYAMA TO NAGOYA

    Bullet trains cut straight

    Through and between mountainsides

    Gowned in fall colors.

    MEMENTO MORI

    At Hase temple

    Kites circle over our heads.

    Death is never far.

    AT THE ZOO

    With unhopeful eyes

    The elephant looks at me

    And I feel ashamed.

    APPEARANCES CAN BE DECEIVING

    Fragrant lychee fruit,

    Your delicious white sweetness

    Hides in your rough rind.

    THE HAKONE YAJIKITA

    Painted charlatan,

    You gull foreign visitors.

    You are no ryokan.

    TAKAYAMA MARKET

    Your vegetables

    Astonish foreign viewers:

    So big, so perfect!

    RESTING PLACE

    Towering cedars

    Shelter a benign spirit:

    Koyasan’s founder.

    LITTLE TREES

    Gracious persimmons,

    Your golden globes light our way

    And your fruit hangs low.

    AUTUMN SPLENDOR

    Delicate fingered

    Fiery red gold maples:

    Fall epiphony.

    ANOMALY

    Sea of sand and stone

    At the Silver Pavilion

    A respite from crowds.

    PETITION

    Gnarly limbed old pine,

    Symbol of longevity,

    Teach us how to age.

    TIME TRAVEL #2

    As I’ve longed to do,

    We fly back in time, but we

    Don’t fly far enough.

  • JAPAN POEMS: ODYSSEY

    ODYSSEY

    I have returned to Japan after thirty years

    Since our youngest daughter made her way

    To complete in Osaka her BU college degree.

    Her father was still jogging every day.

    Life and the rice fields were still green.

    On this fall visit to Japan I plead

    For some relief from grief.  I ask

    The gracious Buddha for heart’s ease.

    And as the strenuous swift days pass

    Through alien and exotic scenes,

    I sense a slowly growing distance

    Between my sweet lost loves and me,

    A moat of separation from the past.

    Though no less dear their features be,

    I stand outside the looking glass

    Between what is and what can never be,

    Between acceptance and a world of pain,

    And lightening my dark misery

    I feel a welcome sense of peace.

    The rice stalks now are drying in the fields.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: BALD EAGLES

    BALD EAGLES

    Today my heart leaped up as I

    Beheld two monarchs of the air

    Circling over White Oak Drive

    In search of errant squirrel and hare.

    As their black wings sailed on the wind,

    The sun lit up white heads and tails.

    They made four sweeping rounds until

    They headed north for our Great Bay.

    The Bay’s their winter habitat

    With osprey, loon, black duck and grebe.

    We’re glad to have our eagles back:

    They awe us with their majesty.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: CALL OF THE WILD

    CALL OF THE WILD

    Driving north in the pelting rain

    I see a line of wild geese arrowing

    Southwest toward more clement climes,

    Harvest gleanings on their minds.

    I hear the faint persistent calls

    By which they organize themselves.

    Already one is flapping forward

    To take the lead, relieve his comrade.

    Why is it that I feel compulsion

    To join this southerly migration?

    Is it the winter that I’d flee

    Or would I be one of that company?