Bev Tappan

Category: Seasonal Poems

Always an observer of the changing days

  • October Sonnet – Song

    Poetry Lyrics by Bev Tappan, A Poem is Meant to be Heard & October Sonnet
    Music and photos by Izzy Td

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 5/22

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – May 16, 2022

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • 2 Poems – both called ‘Spring Fever’

  • NEW ENGLAND WEATHER

    Mother’s Day weekend and snow blasts
    Are pelting the tulips while sudden gusts
    Of wind beset the flowering trees.
    A polar vortex surely seems
    To have us in it’s icy grip.
    What kind of greeting card is this
    To usher in a Mother’s Day?
    It mocks the merry month of May.
    Blasting violets and anemones
    Giving us the annual tease.
    Memorial Day could bring a frost
    We’ll wait ’til June to set out crops.

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 3/22

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – March 21, 2022

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • The Trail Not Taken (with Apology to Robert Frost)
    • A Reminder

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – March 7, 2022

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • The Kancamagus Hike
    • The Last Day of March

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 1/22

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mic January 17, 2022

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • The Woods in Winter
    • Trees

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike January 3, 2022

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • A Christmas Lament

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 10/21

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 18, 2021.

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • White Mountain Art
    • A Show Of Colors (Autumn 2016)
    • On October 12th

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 4, 2021

    • Dan Tappan host
    • A Recollection
    • My Grandfather’s House

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: SPRING FEVER

    SPRING FEVER

     

    What a beneficent day this is:

    Sumer is icumen in,

    Lilacs at the door now bloom,

    Our time for flowering has come.

    Toss the cumbrous coats aside.

    Light and lithesome is our style.

    We’ll be darkly cloaked no more.

    Warmth has reached our northern shores.

    From our caverns we’ll emerge,

    For frolicking we feel the urge.

    Setting out plants and pulling weeds

    With gardening fervor we are seized

    Old bones step out with vigor and vim

    And all the world is young again.

     

     

     

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: WINTER’S ON THE WANE

    I thought I heard a cardinal speak

    But how could that possibly be?

    The temps are in the twenties

    And the parking lot is icy.

    Every shrub is rimed with silver

    Snow has coated every tree.

    How does any bird find shelter

    Where uncover any seed?

    Still I know it’s not much longer

    Till he’ll claim his nesting site

    And be callng out to warn the

    Other cardinals of his rights

    Then entice a tawny female

    To co-sponsor their new tribe.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: NEW BEGINNINGS

    NEW BEGINNINGS

    Unpruned, forsythia explodes

    Golden shafts in tangled glory

    Glistening with April’s raindrops.

    They catch our eye and then we see

    A pink profusion, a panoply

    Of petals bedecking cherry trees.

    Daffodils also have suddenly sprung

    Up.  Their white and yellow trumpets

    Herald the tulips soon to come.

    Hyacinths too are blossoming blue

    And in the woods hepaticas strew

    Vines of pale lilac ground cover.

    Spring is busting out all over.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON THE CUSP OF SPRING

    ON THE CUSP OF SPRING

    It’s snowing again and yet

    The yellow crocus has bloomed

    On the lawn, the finches are back

    To their nest in the blue spruce.

    Flocks of robins have landed

    Each to claim his purlieu

    His own particular tract

    In which to cock his head

    And listen for worms.  The bands

    Of redwings have returned

    To the pond.  We hear their chirr.

    A bevy of female mallards

    Was seen on the tidal river

    Along with a Canada gang

    Of geese heading north.  The cardinal

    “Cheer cheer”s his mating call.

    And yet it is snowing again.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE LAST WEEK OF FEBRUARY

    THE LAST WEEK OF FEBRUARY

    We hear a cardinal’s nesting call,

    Pussy willows raise furry paws,

    Canada geese take a southern tack,

    Syrup buckets are hung out for sap,

    In soaring sweeps three vultures arc,

    Peepers are piping in the marsh,

    Forsythia’s buttery blossoms bloom:

    Who knew that spring would come so soon?

    Tropical storms move up the coast.

    In balmy breezes we’ve doffed our coats.

    Ash Wednesday, heralding Lent, is here.

    We think that a verdant spring is near,

    Although in New England we never know:

    There’s always the chance of an April snow.


  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: BEARING UP

    BEARING UP

    Arising, I open the blinds

    And am blinded by oceans of white

    Shrouding each tree trunk and limb,

    Walkway, driveway and lawn,

    Ruthlessly wet and stickily

    Clinging to cars and roofs.

    Hunch-shouldered firs and spruce

    Bow to the merciless weight.

    “Too much,” I think.  “There can be

    Too much of any good thing.”

    But here in New England we

    Have learned to survive like the trees:

    Hunker down, put up with and wait

    For the sun to revive us again.