April 22 NaPoMo 2021
Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

NaPM April 22, 2021

Topic: Write a poem about a season of the year, in the opposite hemisphere to the one where you live.  (If you live on the equator, you may write about either pole, and vice versa.)

Form: any

Line Requirement: any
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
Strange Latitudes

Is it strange times or places
when mere location shifts all things?

Surfing at Christmas
buying Fall clothes for Easter
what difference does it make?

Those things not so much…

but rise-time and decline
climb and fall as evolved over Cancer
ill-assort themselves under Capricorn:

Christmas timed not so as to celebrate life kindling
but at the start of all things’ death;
Easter and its droll preceding Carnival
presaging not rebirth and resurrection
but hectic dark-fated exuberance
not tilling and the planting but
harvest and gathering into barns
chaff on wind.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Upside Down

The seasons turn
away, tilting toward hopelessness
on the underside of the world,
in the hemisphere of homelessness.


The tilted seasons turn
away, from those who aren’t as blessed-
on the underside of the world,
in the hemisphere of homelessness.

The hemisphere where I live is a brain,
the hemisphere of the Other 
is really six billion hemispheres 
a cacophony of seasons.
The only hemisphere I know is mine,
and the senses are its seasons,
simultaneous and subcutaneous 
they rage or utter cries of joy or both,
though age has dulled the roar.
Brains, like dogs, are very territorial
and jealous even of their vomit.
If you haven’t noticed, it’s now barking
at another sphere, this one, the moon.
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
No reserve NZ

Belly full of summer
now cramps in winter's hold,
Otago runs away with hope
and snows so deep
depression creeps, so cold.

Please let me rest,
I've carried children, wife and horse
followed Aussies yellow road,
sang songs that ward away old ghosts
that tell the tale of miners gold.

The river now feels my feet,
my breath slows into panning pools.
Soon I'll become the white
shores edge and sleep the sleep of fools.

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
Jacana in the Green

The thunder pelts the delta
the bluebeaks build a deck
and lillies swoon and swelter
through serenades of krrrek!

The lady stalks and sails
in robes of rufous hue
to find the fittest males
and form the season's crew.
Is it cold in the summer?
I mean during school seasons,
Like your summer vacation
Is cold. I've seen your Christmas
Parties with the warm weather
And the swimming pools but is
That your winter break? I mean
Do you even July bro?
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches

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