‘Spring Bloomers’ and Other Spring Poetry by Susan Jarvis Bryant The Society April 10, 2025 Culture, Humor, Poetry, Triolet 27 Comments . Spring Bloomers —a triolet A lick of spring has kissed the air Whispering of skimpy knickers— It’s time to toss thick underwear. A lick of spring has kissed the air. I’ll hurl my hat, let down my hair As chill will thaws and fever flickers. A lick of spring has kissed the air Whispering of skimpy knickers. . . To Spring—You Smug Bitch! I’ve never been keen on your shrill scream of green— _Quit littering trees with loud leaves. I’m done with that old golden-daffodil scene— _The foul floral funk that it weaves. Go shove your explosions of burgeoning buds _And burn every bothersome bloom. Bomb each bumbling bee as it buzzes and scuds— _Such buoyancy bloats me with gloom. I hate gaudy, flittering, glittery things _With fluttering wings in full flight, So squish the felicity frippery brings, _Swipe butterfly blights from my sight. Extinguish the flickers of romance brought on _By tickles of sun overhead. Hush juiciest lips with the peachiest song— _Too soon life’s a prune and love’s dead. Keep silken, pink piglets and chicks out of sight, _Don’t let oinks and chirps irk my ear. Boil two Easter bunnies one blue, moonless night _And cancel the egg hunt this year. Castrate randy rams. I abhor leaping lambs— _Their sweet, fleecy kick makes me sick. I pray that your door to fertility jams— _You get on my wintery wick! Your seasonal spree is tormentingly twee— _Gratuitous glee is a curse. May frost bite your arse and may ice guarantee _You’re hurried away in a hearse. first published in Snakeskin . . Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. ***Read Our Comments Policy Here*** 27 Responses Roy Eugene Peterson April 10, 2025 What a contrast in two poems. When I saw the title of the first one, I knew I was in for a treat from the start. It did not disappoint. The second one shocked my seasonal sensitivities and made me wonder what in the world possessed you to castigate the coming of spring. Could it be all the paeans, praises by poets, and passions unleashed by others relative to spring including William Wordsworth with daffodils marching up a ridge? As always, you dazzle me with your raucous renditions replete with words harking back to your British heritage. What fun ensued in both poems with your vivid portrayals. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Roy, thank you very much for your thoughtful and appreciative comment. I’m glad you enjoyed this rather quirky pair of spring offerings. You have hit upon the essence of the second in your observations. I adore spring and write a tribute to this glorious month every year… so this year, I decided to kick spring in her floral fanny. Reply Joseph S. Salemi April 10, 2025 You know what’s great about these two poems? INSOUCIANCE — the very basic “I-don’t-give-a-swiving-hump-what-anybody-thinks” that comes across in both of them. They are not sentimental, nor edifying, nor didactic, nor moralizing. They are just impish and perky fun! The triolet is playfully naughty, with its mention of bloomers and thick underwear and skimpy knickers and letting one’s hair down. It suggests the sexiness that spring is really all about. (Side note: Evan’s illustration is brilliantly ironic.) The second is an exercise in crankiness and pissed-off resentment, and functions as the tonal opposite to the triolet. The language presents an amazing put-down of all the characteristics of springtime that too many poets have turned into a boring euphoria of celebration. I’d consider these two pieces as analogous to Milton’s pairing of “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso”,” or the debate between Youth and Old Age in Spenser’s “Shepherd’s Calendar.” They view a subject from two different angles, while presenting something catchy and intriguing in both cases. And more important, they show the real verbal and ideational freedom that a poet is meant to enjoy — a freedom unhampered by hesitation, restraint, piety, bourgeois decorum, or morality-mongering. Great work, Susan! You’ve made my day. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 What a delightful and delicious word “insouciance” is. I am going to wear it like the badge of “I-don’t-give-a-swiving-hump-what-anybody-thinks” honor. Joe, your comments are always interesting, and I am particularly taken with your Milton and Spenser observations. It helps me see the wonder of pairings and how much contrasting poems add to the overall reading experience. Thank you! I’ve mentioned before that you have always valued your advice to write fearlessly. In these dark days of suppression of speech and self-censoring, I am determined not to succumb to all that is bland and inoffensive. Rhythmic rebellion is rippling through every creative vein with such vigor that even spring hasn’t escaped the clutches of my mischievous muse. Joe, thank you for your appreciation and especially for your continued encouragement. Reply Brian Yapko April 10, 2025 Hilarious fun, Susan, by turns, saucy, sardonic and more than a wee bit iconoclastic. More on that last observation shortly. The triolet is such a strange little form in which 3 out of 8 lines and then 2 out of 8 lines repeat. That means these repetends (especially lines 1, 4 and 7) must either do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of varying content, or else take on a role akin to the chorus of a song. Your repetends actually achieve both effects, which is no small achievement. “A lick of spring has kissed the air” is a charming and slightly saucy “chorus” (noting the relationship of “lick” and “kiss”.) And that sauciness ties in beautifully with the bloomer (another pun) subject matter. One would think that the coming of Spring has made you positively cheeky. Until we get to your grouchy “Smug Bitch” poem. Dr. Salemi described this as “cranky” and that may be an understatement! The language and the imagery are hilariously hostile to all that we normally think of when we poets rhapsodize about Spring. You get to be the contrarian. It’s as if you borrowed Ebenezer Scrooge’s “bah humbug” and channeled the Grinch as you diss the season with as much vitriole as they attack Christmas. I looked for signs that your speaker’s attitude was meant as irony and could not find any. Had it been present, such irony might mask adoration (Shakespeare’s “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…”) Or even denial (the Cole Porter song for Katharina “I Hate Men” from “Kiss Me, Kate.”) But not here. “Smug Bitch” is indeed unapologetically, gloriously negative — transgressive even. I’m no mind-reader, but I’m wagering that the “iconoclasm” I mentioned in my first paragraph is the actual point of the poem — the willingness to take something as universally praised as Spring with its flowers and lambs and Easter eggs — and demonstrate that a fanastic poem can be crafted stating the opposing view. But this is not just a show-piece. It’s also a surprising source of hilarity — the speaker’s unexpected preference for the bitterness of winter and not making a daffodil fuss. I’m reminded of Morticia Addams snipping and discarding the blooms off her roses and gathering only the thorny branches into her vase. Every so often, Susan, I see you channel Morticia. And I love it. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Brian, I just love your comment. It has more creativity crammed into it than the pair of poems it speaks of… such inspiration for further works. Thank you! I’ve grown very fond of that tricky triolet form and I’m glad my sauciness came across. Evan has tempered all that may be perceived as unseemly with woolen bloomers so huge they’ve eclipsed my skimpy knickers. I cannot look at the picture without laughing – it’s perfect. Thank you, Evan! “Hilariously hostile” is a spot on observation for my “smug bitch” poem, and I’m thoroughly entertained by your Scrooge/Grinch take – it is indeed transgressive, to say the least. I’m sure Wordsworth is spinning beneath golden daffodils as I type. Your Morticia Addams image is wonderful. Perhaps working at a funeral home for ten years may have started to shape my poetry. Let’s hope so! Brian, thank you very much! Reply JONATHAN KINSMAN April 10, 2025 Susan, Twisted knickers tend to snickers and rumors fly about the town. Insouciance and nonchalance hold the quivers that bring them down. How do you like that for double entendre?? Thanks for the entertaining (which is a key to good and great poetry) lines today!! Jonathan Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Jonathan, I’m a huge fan of the double entendre and yours have made my spring day. Thank you!! Reply Cynthia Erlandson April 10, 2025 So much fun, Susan! And I agree that the picture is hilarious! How physical education has changed! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Cynthia, I am laughing along with you. I have only seen bloomers like that on a court jester… they’re hilarious. My PE knickers were granny-fashion, navy-blue, navel-high eyesores worn beneath my gym skirt… and yes, the PE teacher checked to see they were appropriate to play hockey in. I wish I’d kept them. They look very similar to the ones in my drawer now! Reply Margaret Brinton April 11, 2025 Susan, your second poem , “To Spring—–” , is a bold one, but something that most of us can identify with at one time or another in our life. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Margaret, thank you for reading and thank you very much for your comment. The poem is bold… with a hint of beauty in the melody, I hope. Reply Mark Stellinga April 11, 2025 Susan, I may text you when I quit laughing – probably sometime next week! 🙂 Port Lavaca needs to install a statue of you in its town square in the pose of a seriously-motivated-perception-expounding-poetess’, with one hand displaying a piece of parchment, the other a quill. Another blue ribbon piece from someone I understand is merely pointing out the nastier facets of Spring to slip into her portfolio of far more typical seasonal commentaries. When Connie and I think ‘Spring’, as we know do U 2, we think – ‘flowers and bluejays and cardinals and hummingbirds. The Hummingbird The first time that I saw one I could not believe my eyes. It seemed a wingless body…somehow floating in the air… With tiny head… a slender beak… a stubby, twitching tail… and flanked on either shoulder by an iridescent flare. Its colors were amazing, like I’d never seen before, with yellow speckles, silver tufts, and brilliant ruby throat. Like ailerons made of feathers – what I learned to be its wings – hummed with focused frenzy as they kept the bird afloat. His hovering seemed so effortless, so agile, and so graceful. His wings were imperceptible but for the sound I heard. I softly whispered, “Grandma, what’s that funny little thing?” She whispered, “It’s your lucky day… you’ve seen a hummingbird!” Mesmerized, I watched him, as he darted ‘round the gardens, sampling from the blossoms that adorned her lovely lawn, Pausing only briefly for the nectar in each flower, until at last… as quickly as he’d come… the bird was gone! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Mark, you have made me smile. And thank you for your lovely poem on that hummingbird. I am besotted with hummingbird. The first time I encountered one was when I moved to Texas, and now I put syrup feeders up in my backyard… all year round. I cannot get enough of them. I thrilled to hear you got to see one, and that it inspired you to write this poem. Reply James Sale April 11, 2025 Ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Talking about knickers will always get the male attention! A deep sensuality in your work: love it! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 James, I’m thrilled my Spring Bloomers turned your head! What more could a poet ask? Thank you! Reply Julian D. Woodruff April 11, 2025 I wanted to respond poetically here to these 2 enjoyable ditties celebrating sweetly & sourly the time of year. I’ll have to be prosaic. Texans on the whole must be two-faced as you are here, Susan–glad winter is over, dreading summer (which may start tomorrow–if it hasn’t already). Here in Toronto, it snowed for 6 hours straight, & it snowed again this am. We may, just MAY see 50 degrees for Easter. Yes, we have had a few warmer days, and the tree branches are filling with buds, but still, the gladsome hailing of spring that Adam Sedia had up here a short while back, while accomplished, seems forced, considering he’s a resident of Indiana or Ohio. Anyway, thanks for your Janus-like songs, Susan. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Julian, thank you for your appreciative and informative comment on my “Janus-like songs” – what a great and very apt term to describe this odd pair. Spring is one of my favorite seasons, and I especially miss the bluebell woods of England… although, I will admit to falling in love with the bluebonnets here in Texas. I have been on wildflower jaunts in April and when standing in just the right place their heady scent surfed the breeze and enveloped me in their perfume. Julian, your comment has me shivering. I do hope it warms up for you soon. Reply Warren Bonham April 13, 2025 Both of these are fantastic! As Julian wisely pointed out, views of spring likely differ depending on one’s location. When living in Canada, I enjoyed the first week or two of winter but quickly transitioned to an eager anticipation of spring. Here in Texas, spring is a sign that the interminable summer will soon be upon us. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Warren, I’m thrilled you enjoyed the poems. I can relate to your spring experiences having spent most of my life in England. Spring is unpredictable there – I’ve braced the season in wellingtons trudging through snow and I’ve embraced it in a tee shirt and shorts. The Brits have a saying: “Ne’er cast a clout till May is out” – I learned exactly why the hard way. Warren, thank you very much indeed! Reply Jeff Eardley April 13, 2025 Susan, the Addams Family are waiting for you. The Smug Bitch of Spring is hilarious and a joy to read as we slide into the season of Easter bullshite. You have persuaded me to pick up an axe to sort out the pesky Mallard bitch, camping out in my back garden. Great to read today, as ever, from the best poet on the planet. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Jeff, if I knew my words would encourage the murder a Mallard, I’d have written a Keatsian ode in spring’s honour. Please tell me she’s still alive and quacking! Thank you very much for the giggle, and more importantly, thank you for your appreciation of my strange spring offerings and for your constant encouragement. It means a lot! Reply Norma Pain April 14, 2025 Susan, I had to comment on these two amazing poems that are so funny and naughty and nasty and delicious. I just love the way your mind works to entertain us and make us think about things in different ways. You always wake us up and make us laugh. Brilliant. As Jeff says, ‘best poet on the planet’. Thank you. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Norma, it is so wonderful to hear from you. When I see your name, I smile at the thought of all the joyous and quirky poems you’ve brightened the site with. When I make Norma Pain laugh, I know I’ve hit the right note, as you always do. Your appreciation means the world, and I cannot wait to see more of your marvels here at the SCP – I miss your sunshine! Thank you very much indeed, my friend. Reply Mia April 16, 2025 These two poems are great to read. Beneath the humour of the second one though, am I wrong to detect a sad note? I have been thinking all week of what it reminds me of and I just remembered. It’s ‘Stop All the Clocks’ by W.H. Auden. Very different poems but the sentiment is the same in my opinion. Anyway I went and read Auden again and Susan what struck me is that you really give him a run for his money. Whereas Auden is direct , you Susan manage to pull off a comical masterpiece that masks the real feeling of of some kind of loss underneath the humour. Superbly complex and very British perhaps? Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Mia, what a beautiful and perceptive comment, and what a lovely comparison. The Auden poem you mention is one of my favourites – it never fails to make me cry with its honesty. I will be honest with you now. I sat down to write a poem specifically for spring… and, down to a difficult year, I couldn’t find the magic to honour her in the way I have in previous years… so I decided to subvert the spring genre and have a bit of a naughty giggle instead. You felt the trickle of a tear beneath the smile, and yes, you’re right it is very British – it’s my British stiff upper lip in the face of stuff that pulls one down. I love the curative quality of laughter. I also love the fine eye and sensitivity of readers like you. Thank you for my spring hug. Reply Frank Rable April 17, 2025 Susan, I love spring, Always have. In many ways you have reminded me why. And I loved the dry humor that conveyed it. I want to say something witty to express my appreciation, but I fear I may fall short. What about, your poem is a spring hat with a saucy brim? Hold onto it, lest a stray March wind, that know not of spring, carry it away. Oh I am so full of it. You keep writing, I’ll keep reading. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Roy Eugene Peterson April 10, 2025 What a contrast in two poems. When I saw the title of the first one, I knew I was in for a treat from the start. It did not disappoint. The second one shocked my seasonal sensitivities and made me wonder what in the world possessed you to castigate the coming of spring. Could it be all the paeans, praises by poets, and passions unleashed by others relative to spring including William Wordsworth with daffodils marching up a ridge? As always, you dazzle me with your raucous renditions replete with words harking back to your British heritage. What fun ensued in both poems with your vivid portrayals. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Roy, thank you very much for your thoughtful and appreciative comment. I’m glad you enjoyed this rather quirky pair of spring offerings. You have hit upon the essence of the second in your observations. I adore spring and write a tribute to this glorious month every year… so this year, I decided to kick spring in her floral fanny. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi April 10, 2025 You know what’s great about these two poems? INSOUCIANCE — the very basic “I-don’t-give-a-swiving-hump-what-anybody-thinks” that comes across in both of them. They are not sentimental, nor edifying, nor didactic, nor moralizing. They are just impish and perky fun! The triolet is playfully naughty, with its mention of bloomers and thick underwear and skimpy knickers and letting one’s hair down. It suggests the sexiness that spring is really all about. (Side note: Evan’s illustration is brilliantly ironic.) The second is an exercise in crankiness and pissed-off resentment, and functions as the tonal opposite to the triolet. The language presents an amazing put-down of all the characteristics of springtime that too many poets have turned into a boring euphoria of celebration. I’d consider these two pieces as analogous to Milton’s pairing of “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso”,” or the debate between Youth and Old Age in Spenser’s “Shepherd’s Calendar.” They view a subject from two different angles, while presenting something catchy and intriguing in both cases. And more important, they show the real verbal and ideational freedom that a poet is meant to enjoy — a freedom unhampered by hesitation, restraint, piety, bourgeois decorum, or morality-mongering. Great work, Susan! You’ve made my day. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 What a delightful and delicious word “insouciance” is. I am going to wear it like the badge of “I-don’t-give-a-swiving-hump-what-anybody-thinks” honor. Joe, your comments are always interesting, and I am particularly taken with your Milton and Spenser observations. It helps me see the wonder of pairings and how much contrasting poems add to the overall reading experience. Thank you! I’ve mentioned before that you have always valued your advice to write fearlessly. In these dark days of suppression of speech and self-censoring, I am determined not to succumb to all that is bland and inoffensive. Rhythmic rebellion is rippling through every creative vein with such vigor that even spring hasn’t escaped the clutches of my mischievous muse. Joe, thank you for your appreciation and especially for your continued encouragement. Reply
Brian Yapko April 10, 2025 Hilarious fun, Susan, by turns, saucy, sardonic and more than a wee bit iconoclastic. More on that last observation shortly. The triolet is such a strange little form in which 3 out of 8 lines and then 2 out of 8 lines repeat. That means these repetends (especially lines 1, 4 and 7) must either do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of varying content, or else take on a role akin to the chorus of a song. Your repetends actually achieve both effects, which is no small achievement. “A lick of spring has kissed the air” is a charming and slightly saucy “chorus” (noting the relationship of “lick” and “kiss”.) And that sauciness ties in beautifully with the bloomer (another pun) subject matter. One would think that the coming of Spring has made you positively cheeky. Until we get to your grouchy “Smug Bitch” poem. Dr. Salemi described this as “cranky” and that may be an understatement! The language and the imagery are hilariously hostile to all that we normally think of when we poets rhapsodize about Spring. You get to be the contrarian. It’s as if you borrowed Ebenezer Scrooge’s “bah humbug” and channeled the Grinch as you diss the season with as much vitriole as they attack Christmas. I looked for signs that your speaker’s attitude was meant as irony and could not find any. Had it been present, such irony might mask adoration (Shakespeare’s “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…”) Or even denial (the Cole Porter song for Katharina “I Hate Men” from “Kiss Me, Kate.”) But not here. “Smug Bitch” is indeed unapologetically, gloriously negative — transgressive even. I’m no mind-reader, but I’m wagering that the “iconoclasm” I mentioned in my first paragraph is the actual point of the poem — the willingness to take something as universally praised as Spring with its flowers and lambs and Easter eggs — and demonstrate that a fanastic poem can be crafted stating the opposing view. But this is not just a show-piece. It’s also a surprising source of hilarity — the speaker’s unexpected preference for the bitterness of winter and not making a daffodil fuss. I’m reminded of Morticia Addams snipping and discarding the blooms off her roses and gathering only the thorny branches into her vase. Every so often, Susan, I see you channel Morticia. And I love it. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Brian, I just love your comment. It has more creativity crammed into it than the pair of poems it speaks of… such inspiration for further works. Thank you! I’ve grown very fond of that tricky triolet form and I’m glad my sauciness came across. Evan has tempered all that may be perceived as unseemly with woolen bloomers so huge they’ve eclipsed my skimpy knickers. I cannot look at the picture without laughing – it’s perfect. Thank you, Evan! “Hilariously hostile” is a spot on observation for my “smug bitch” poem, and I’m thoroughly entertained by your Scrooge/Grinch take – it is indeed transgressive, to say the least. I’m sure Wordsworth is spinning beneath golden daffodils as I type. Your Morticia Addams image is wonderful. Perhaps working at a funeral home for ten years may have started to shape my poetry. Let’s hope so! Brian, thank you very much! Reply
JONATHAN KINSMAN April 10, 2025 Susan, Twisted knickers tend to snickers and rumors fly about the town. Insouciance and nonchalance hold the quivers that bring them down. How do you like that for double entendre?? Thanks for the entertaining (which is a key to good and great poetry) lines today!! Jonathan Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Jonathan, I’m a huge fan of the double entendre and yours have made my spring day. Thank you!! Reply
Cynthia Erlandson April 10, 2025 So much fun, Susan! And I agree that the picture is hilarious! How physical education has changed! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Cynthia, I am laughing along with you. I have only seen bloomers like that on a court jester… they’re hilarious. My PE knickers were granny-fashion, navy-blue, navel-high eyesores worn beneath my gym skirt… and yes, the PE teacher checked to see they were appropriate to play hockey in. I wish I’d kept them. They look very similar to the ones in my drawer now! Reply
Margaret Brinton April 11, 2025 Susan, your second poem , “To Spring—–” , is a bold one, but something that most of us can identify with at one time or another in our life. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Margaret, thank you for reading and thank you very much for your comment. The poem is bold… with a hint of beauty in the melody, I hope. Reply
Mark Stellinga April 11, 2025 Susan, I may text you when I quit laughing – probably sometime next week! 🙂 Port Lavaca needs to install a statue of you in its town square in the pose of a seriously-motivated-perception-expounding-poetess’, with one hand displaying a piece of parchment, the other a quill. Another blue ribbon piece from someone I understand is merely pointing out the nastier facets of Spring to slip into her portfolio of far more typical seasonal commentaries. When Connie and I think ‘Spring’, as we know do U 2, we think – ‘flowers and bluejays and cardinals and hummingbirds. The Hummingbird The first time that I saw one I could not believe my eyes. It seemed a wingless body…somehow floating in the air… With tiny head… a slender beak… a stubby, twitching tail… and flanked on either shoulder by an iridescent flare. Its colors were amazing, like I’d never seen before, with yellow speckles, silver tufts, and brilliant ruby throat. Like ailerons made of feathers – what I learned to be its wings – hummed with focused frenzy as they kept the bird afloat. His hovering seemed so effortless, so agile, and so graceful. His wings were imperceptible but for the sound I heard. I softly whispered, “Grandma, what’s that funny little thing?” She whispered, “It’s your lucky day… you’ve seen a hummingbird!” Mesmerized, I watched him, as he darted ‘round the gardens, sampling from the blossoms that adorned her lovely lawn, Pausing only briefly for the nectar in each flower, until at last… as quickly as he’d come… the bird was gone! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Mark, you have made me smile. And thank you for your lovely poem on that hummingbird. I am besotted with hummingbird. The first time I encountered one was when I moved to Texas, and now I put syrup feeders up in my backyard… all year round. I cannot get enough of them. I thrilled to hear you got to see one, and that it inspired you to write this poem. Reply
James Sale April 11, 2025 Ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Talking about knickers will always get the male attention! A deep sensuality in your work: love it! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 James, I’m thrilled my Spring Bloomers turned your head! What more could a poet ask? Thank you! Reply
Julian D. Woodruff April 11, 2025 I wanted to respond poetically here to these 2 enjoyable ditties celebrating sweetly & sourly the time of year. I’ll have to be prosaic. Texans on the whole must be two-faced as you are here, Susan–glad winter is over, dreading summer (which may start tomorrow–if it hasn’t already). Here in Toronto, it snowed for 6 hours straight, & it snowed again this am. We may, just MAY see 50 degrees for Easter. Yes, we have had a few warmer days, and the tree branches are filling with buds, but still, the gladsome hailing of spring that Adam Sedia had up here a short while back, while accomplished, seems forced, considering he’s a resident of Indiana or Ohio. Anyway, thanks for your Janus-like songs, Susan. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Julian, thank you for your appreciative and informative comment on my “Janus-like songs” – what a great and very apt term to describe this odd pair. Spring is one of my favorite seasons, and I especially miss the bluebell woods of England… although, I will admit to falling in love with the bluebonnets here in Texas. I have been on wildflower jaunts in April and when standing in just the right place their heady scent surfed the breeze and enveloped me in their perfume. Julian, your comment has me shivering. I do hope it warms up for you soon. Reply
Warren Bonham April 13, 2025 Both of these are fantastic! As Julian wisely pointed out, views of spring likely differ depending on one’s location. When living in Canada, I enjoyed the first week or two of winter but quickly transitioned to an eager anticipation of spring. Here in Texas, spring is a sign that the interminable summer will soon be upon us. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Warren, I’m thrilled you enjoyed the poems. I can relate to your spring experiences having spent most of my life in England. Spring is unpredictable there – I’ve braced the season in wellingtons trudging through snow and I’ve embraced it in a tee shirt and shorts. The Brits have a saying: “Ne’er cast a clout till May is out” – I learned exactly why the hard way. Warren, thank you very much indeed! Reply
Jeff Eardley April 13, 2025 Susan, the Addams Family are waiting for you. The Smug Bitch of Spring is hilarious and a joy to read as we slide into the season of Easter bullshite. You have persuaded me to pick up an axe to sort out the pesky Mallard bitch, camping out in my back garden. Great to read today, as ever, from the best poet on the planet. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Jeff, if I knew my words would encourage the murder a Mallard, I’d have written a Keatsian ode in spring’s honour. Please tell me she’s still alive and quacking! Thank you very much for the giggle, and more importantly, thank you for your appreciation of my strange spring offerings and for your constant encouragement. It means a lot! Reply
Norma Pain April 14, 2025 Susan, I had to comment on these two amazing poems that are so funny and naughty and nasty and delicious. I just love the way your mind works to entertain us and make us think about things in different ways. You always wake us up and make us laugh. Brilliant. As Jeff says, ‘best poet on the planet’. Thank you. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Norma, it is so wonderful to hear from you. When I see your name, I smile at the thought of all the joyous and quirky poems you’ve brightened the site with. When I make Norma Pain laugh, I know I’ve hit the right note, as you always do. Your appreciation means the world, and I cannot wait to see more of your marvels here at the SCP – I miss your sunshine! Thank you very much indeed, my friend. Reply
Mia April 16, 2025 These two poems are great to read. Beneath the humour of the second one though, am I wrong to detect a sad note? I have been thinking all week of what it reminds me of and I just remembered. It’s ‘Stop All the Clocks’ by W.H. Auden. Very different poems but the sentiment is the same in my opinion. Anyway I went and read Auden again and Susan what struck me is that you really give him a run for his money. Whereas Auden is direct , you Susan manage to pull off a comical masterpiece that masks the real feeling of of some kind of loss underneath the humour. Superbly complex and very British perhaps? Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 16, 2025 Mia, what a beautiful and perceptive comment, and what a lovely comparison. The Auden poem you mention is one of my favourites – it never fails to make me cry with its honesty. I will be honest with you now. I sat down to write a poem specifically for spring… and, down to a difficult year, I couldn’t find the magic to honour her in the way I have in previous years… so I decided to subvert the spring genre and have a bit of a naughty giggle instead. You felt the trickle of a tear beneath the smile, and yes, you’re right it is very British – it’s my British stiff upper lip in the face of stuff that pulls one down. I love the curative quality of laughter. I also love the fine eye and sensitivity of readers like you. Thank you for my spring hug. Reply
Frank Rable April 17, 2025 Susan, I love spring, Always have. In many ways you have reminded me why. And I loved the dry humor that conveyed it. I want to say something witty to express my appreciation, but I fear I may fall short. What about, your poem is a spring hat with a saucy brim? Hold onto it, lest a stray March wind, that know not of spring, carry it away. Oh I am so full of it. You keep writing, I’ll keep reading. Reply
