Don Tiedemann

Rookie - 76 Points (2/23/1950 / Baltimore, Md)

Three Sisters Or Come The Revolution - Poem by Don Tiedemann


In the harbor the white boats bob,
the whitecaps flash. On the shore
the blank trees rock heel toe, heel toe.
Now is the negligence of careless April;
the sloven stir of wind and wet
and hope and green and indifference.
Breathe in, breathe out. Shuffle the deck.
Drum your fingers. Hum Vivaldi

In the streets the long-haired girls
are weathervanes. The Winter that
led you here is as gone as the wake
behind the fishing boat.


The flowers are all shameless
histrionics. Dogwoods
gesticulate. Day lilies bow.
Azaleas are blazing footlights
for posturing hardwoods.

You like the conviction in May;
the resolution in shrinking puddles,
clarity in mown fields. Summer
issues a call for rebellion.
White-tailed deer drum the paths.


Green are the fields and green
the trees that shape them.
Coneflowers and daisies
Sit in their Sunday hats.

The rabble organizes in June.
Summer's manifesto is posted.
The birds make treetop speeches
demanding sunlight, long languid days
and clouds in silent procession
over cornfields.

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Comments about Three Sisters Or Come The Revolution by Don Tiedemann

  • (4/18/2012 9:08:00 PM)

    Another sister, the illegitimate one,
    Is in the background
    Waiting, waiting waiting
    For there is the breath of death in the air
    The smell of rot and decay
    As all good things have to end.

    What will be the winter's winds;
    Grow cold,
    Rattling the shutters, twisting the lifeless leaves
    Stirring the dust long settled but freshly awakened
    Even the sun seems less bright
    The moon casting fewer shadows
    The brook bubbles and becomes quiet.
    The girl's hair thins and turns grey,
    Autumn is here.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 18, 2012

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