Tag Archives: spring

Haiku time!

I wish I knew how
to coax out a good haiku
but they won’t bloom here.

Yes, it’s that time again- time for a series of haiku poems. You know you love it.


if I could stop now
our summer would never end
but time continues

autumn brings colour
heralds the death of the year
and the end of us

snow falls softly now
returns me to a blank slate
winter at its best

fresh green shoots spring forth
from their mother’s warm embrace
I begin again.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.


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Friends are Awesome

I’m in such a wonderful mood today! Buzzing with the energy of spring, I think. That, and sitting the patio of my favourite pub with a great friend, nachos and a pint of beer is the best way to dine- we don’t have to do the dishes! ūüėõ

Onto the reason you came here: poetry! This is just something I scribbled down.

untitled or happiness or to be decided when it’s finished

Time is a fickle beast,
Making fools of us all.
At one instant, time leaps forward
And others, it slows to a dreary crawl.
But always the company of friends
Brings wonder and joy to the time we have.
An hour of laughter can mean more
Than a week alone. Home may be where
The heart lives, but love is best found
With a good book, or great companions.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

I’m still fixing some other Fibonacci poems, but they’ll be up here before too long. And that bout-rime is still giving me headaches. Plus my novel, but I made a breakthrough with that earlier today, so it will hopefully be much easier from now on.


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Fibonacci Sequence

I don’t know if all of you know this, but I’m kiiiind of a nerd. That poem I wrote, Subatomic Love, might have clued you in. Or parts of In Daddy’s Genes.¬†I like comic books, video games, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy and science fiction (it’s SF not sci-fi! haha) in all their various forms like movies novels poetry music art whatever, science of many varieties, and mathematics.¬†This is relevant to poetry, I promise.
In fact, it has been argued that writing itself is a nerdy sort of thing. If that’s true then I never want to be cool. But back to what I was saying.

So, if you know a bit about mathematical concepts, you’re probably familiar with Fibonacci’s sequence. Start with 0 and 1, and you add the second number to the sum of the preceding pair. Like, 0+1 = 1, so the sum of the pair is 1 and the second number is 1. Therefore your next pair is 1 and 1. 1+1=2, then 1+2=3, so 2+3=5, then 3+5=8, then 5+8=13, and on into infinity. 0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55… It’s also a neat way to approximate the golden ratio (works best with the higher numbers, because 8/5=1.60000, but 55/34=1.617647, and then 89/55=1.61818, where the golden ratio is 1.61803, so you can get pretty close if you don’t need a lot of digits), if you’re into irrational¬†numbers. I’m pretty fond of pi. And pie. Mmm, now I want fudge. But ignore that, I’m just hungry :P. Again, this is relevant, aside from the commentary on food.

What it boils down to is that I was bored at work, thinking about numbers and how wonderful they are, when inspiration fell out of the sky like an Acme anvil in a Looney Tunes cartoon.
The Fibonacci sequence is all whole numbers, right? So I can use it for poetry form.

For example, you can use the first bunch of numbers as your limits on words or syllables per line:

(for the purposes of poetry, I feel comfortable omitting the zero in my count)
Fibonacci Poetry #1 

warmth (1)
brings (1)
croci (2)
peeking out (3)
from beneath the snow, (5)
thriving while the world is asleep; (8)
Eliot was so wrong about April’s cruelty. (13)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Or, you can get a little crazy with it. I was thinking about symmetry and palindromes as well, which is what I worked into this one. I work retail; if I don’t exercise my brain regularly, I’ll become another automaton going through the motions of life, and I’m way too young to give up, to no longer want “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life”. Fuck that, I’m here, and I live deliberately. Regret is for other people.
So here’s another thing I was doodling between customers. Words this time, rather than syllables. I thought I’d give both a shot.

Fibonacci Poetry #2

help! (1)
your (1)
beauty is (2)
suffocating in its (3)
intensity; I can’t breathe in (5)
or out unless (3)
I close (2)
my (1)
eyes. (1)

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Whaddaya think? It’s probably not a new idea, but I like it. I’m probably going to write some more like this, because math is fun.


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Birthday Acrostic poem

Happy Birthday

Begin a new year of life today
It’s newly spring, after all.
Richly coloured packages, and
Twenty dollar bills tucked in cards
Have been seen and done before.
Does anyone else know how
Amazing you are, dearest?
You deserve the very best on your

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011.

I originally wrote this for my best friend’s birthday, but it will serve just as well for my mom’s birthday, which is today. I need to run to the spa place down the street and pick up a gift card as well. She never spoils herself, so I’ll make sure she does. ūüėÄ

I am le tired, so I will go have a nap. Then there shall be prezzies, and possibly cake. Mmmmmmmm cake.

Jeez, I hope my brother picked up something nice too.


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blah day

I’m not quite sure what I call this one.


outside my window there is
little more than grey drizzle
on gritty snow; this purgatory,
not quite winter, but not yet spring,
stifles any attempt to live in it.
this brown snow is winter’s spray tan,
a sad attempt to hang onto a passing season;
wrinkled at the eyes, forehead and lips,
caked in foundation and false eyelashes.

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Feel like crap today. I dragged myself into work after an attempt to call in sick. Apparently puking off and on all morning is a picnic, and I am an¬†indispensable cog for the machine¬†leading up to zombie Jesus day. Never mind that staying home and resting will ensure that I’ll be 100% for Saturday’s insanity.

Whatever, fuck it. I’m going to sleep.

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Soooooo, I don’t know if you know this, but sometimes Canada has snow. I know it’s been ‘spring’ for like a month, but people here are still surprised that it snowed today.

Hate to break it to ya folks, but… look where we live! Seriously.
I have learned (the hard way) not to trust the nice spring weather until after the May 2-4 weekend. ¬†After that, we’re less likely to freeze our butts off at random. Annnnd once Labour Day hits? Snow can come any day! That is how this country works. It’s sad, but true.

Onto my reason for being: poetry. I found a cool picture, then wrote a poem to go along with it.


Three roads I see before my feet:
The left, the right, and straight ahead.
Which way to go, I do not know;
They fill me with such fear and dread.

The straight leads deeper in the woods,
Though I am now on my way home.
The left goes down toward the lake,
And I do not know how to swim.
The straight winds up beyond my sight;
My bones are weary of the road.

Where I shall go, I do not know.
They fill me with such fear and dread,
The paths I see before my feet:
The left, the right, and straight ahead.

I went the straight road in the past,
Though the steady plod had bored me.
The left path floods with every spring,
And it’s just the start of April.
The right has dangers of its own;
My mind flinches from the perils.

Three paths I see before my feet:
The left, the right and straight ahead.
Which way to go, I do not know;
My heart is full of fear and dread.

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011.

It doesn’t feel quite done. Then again, I’m not sure. Thoughts?

Actually, I kind of like it- except I get the lingering feeling that I’m ripping off Robert Frost in some way. But he had two paths, and both of his looked the same. Fuck that, three is a much better number.
Oh here’s the picture that inspired this whole shebang.


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Springtime in a Field

I was wandering about the internet looking for

thanks to Carlos Porto at freedigitalphotos.net

writing prompts, and I found this.

I liked the idea, so here’s what came of the list on there.

Springtime in a Field

the world is big
to a tiny maple seed
spiralling fluttering
in the early morning

leaps over water
avoids a bored cat
skims her grey fur
she lets out a purr

only the best
for the robin’s eggs
chirp in the sun
a new spring begun

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011

What do you think?

http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=345¬†¬†is the link for the photo, but I couldn’t make it attach to the picture. I occasionally fail at formatting.


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the Seasons Personified

Okay, so it’s not technically Wednesday anymore; I’m okay with that. I’m still posting a response to the Three Word Wednesday http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2011/04/3ww-ccxxxvi.html prompt.

The Seasons Personified

the last time I saw Spring
we had a tickle war and
she laughed and squealed
until she vomited violets
all over my lawn.

still, that’s better than
Winter’s cold tragic embrace;
evidently, he ¬†hasn’t forgiven me
for hiding snowballs
in my freezer to scare Summer.

Autumn and I get along best,
I find, because neither of us
is deluded enough to think
that our time together is anything
more than an illusion.

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2011


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