“Joan of Arc” by Jules Bastien-Lepage‘Orchards Let Light In’ and Other Poetry by Don Kubicki The Society March 4, 2020 Beauty, Culture, Love Poems, Poetry 3 Comments Orchards Let Light In “Oh to be like ‘The Man who Planted Trees’” There is a grove that in the meadow grows Where stately fruit-filled stanchions bloom And in the fruit there is a juice that flows Like water breaking from a pregnant womb. As misty dreams rise with the hopeful sun The shadows of the trees lie pointing west Anticipating the lines of everyone And giving life to ideas expressed. The grassy garden is covered with rows Of fruit trees rooted in biblical soil, Watered with a Grecian spring that flows And tended by Anglo tillers who toil. The tender blades of grass sprout in their shade Receiving lines that fall as ripe as fruit To share unspoken thoughts that cannot fade Though all the world’s brute force might make them mute. Beneath the sweaty sun the trees produce That which gives life and breath to inner parts. The élan vital in their gentle juice Bestows a spirit that fuels future hearts. Today the sun sets on the stand of trees They have fulfilled the aging bard’s request And made insightful all the lines but these. The work is done; the Harvest laid to rest. Sonnet No. 9 The bard and many other learned men Have proclaimed the place where true love does stay When waning words fall short and at wits end— True love dwells in your heart is what most say. My love for you has grown beyond the size Of even the world’s largest human heart. It fills my chest, my head, my arms, my thighs With ardor that all art could not impart. What, my fair lady, is the vessel grand Enough that could dare to behold thy grace And be so bold as to caress thy hand But dare not stare at thy pure faultless face? I love just you with all that is within This dusty cover that I call my skin. Sonnet to Spring The lyric voice of Nature’s songs take wing. The larkspur and pink rose add lively cheer, The Springtime sunshine smothers every thing, Dark shadows even slowly disappear. You are the youth of every year I know, So with your energy and passion pure You set the country nearby me aglow, And drape my dour world in haute couture. The springtime’s voice is like a soft warm breeze. With her tears that come coolly falling down, She nourishes the grass beneath the trees, And nurtures my heart as well as the ground. We are twin limbs that never should splinter My world without you, Spring, is like winter. Don Kubicki is a 70-year-old retired security guard residing in Las Vegas, but from Whittier, CA. He has two books published. One is “Inspiration” a collection of poems. The other is “Quintero Comes Home” a romantic crime novel. He has been writing poetry since he was fifteen years old. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 3 Responses JULIAN WOODRUFF March 4, 2020 Maybe: We two are twin limbs that should …; or: We are like twin limbs that should … Regardless, a splendid final couplet! Reply Don Kubicki March 4, 2020 Julian, I love the romantic quality of your suggestions; however, they would change the line from iambic pentameter to something else. Reply C.B. Anderson March 4, 2020 Fair enough, Don, but after the first three iambs in this line, the next two metrical feet are a pyrrhic and a trochee. A few other lines in that poem, and many other lines in the other poems show similar types of irregularity. “Where stately fruit-filled stanchions bloom” is tetrameter. In stanza 2 of “Orchards …” lines 1, 3 & 4, trochees & pyrrhics are strewn about rather haphazardly. And so on. Learn to scan the feet correctly and be careful with your substitutions. Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.