Thursday, May 2, 2013

Three Poems by Cherise Wyneken

Why do sunsets make me stop and stare?
It’s not the only dab of brightness
    that I’ve seen today.
Yellow allamandas bloom profusely
    on my garden fence
the pool ripples shades of aqua blue
    my beach towel
drapes across the lawn chair
    purple, green and maize
cardinals flange the hedgerow
with brilliant tones of red.
Perhaps because a sunset
filters out the day
    in one last flare of color
telling me it’s over
in pomegranate hues
    watermelon pink, persimmon
leaving dregs of darkness
    in its wake
measuring tomorrow’s waterline
interring tints of blossom
    in its tomb. 
A quiet spot
along the Oregon coast
where gentle waves
ripple toward shore;
a place of peace
with a weathered table
that beckons for a picnic.
Spring green grass
speckled with tiny
white and yellow flowers,
a hedge of unfamiliar shrubs
setting off a lone and
straggled pine,
and cotton ball clouds
melding like eider in a coverlet
with roiling skies above.
A quiet spot
where simple specks of life
portray the total spectrum.
Springing Forward
Flakes of white plum blossoms
fall like snow onto our yard
taking me back to winter fields
lying still beside our house
as I waited to see Santa’s sleigh appear.
I feel sifting snow creep up my sleeves
when frozen ruts
slipped me into cold banks.
I hear delicious crunchy sounds
when walking on thin iced mounds,
and recall the itch and sting of frozen ears.
I make a u-turn from my memories
and find spring spread across our lawn.
Cherise Wyneken is a freelance writer. Her articles, stories, and poems – adult and juvenile – have appeared in over two hundred publications, two collections of poetry, two poetry chapbooks, a memoir, a novel, a children’s book, a children’s audiocassette, and her recent collection of stories from her life, STIR-FRIED MEMORIES from She writes a poetry column at: and was nominated for the 2012 Pushcart Prize in poetry.

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