Wintering

 

two deer rest on ice

fur warming frigid site/sight

what fresh peace is this?

~CMH 

One of the deer in my backyard

(Note: last line takes after Dorothy Parker's "what fresh hell is this?")

"Lost Painting"

 

Lost Painting

 

 

So many geese in the graveyard

roving among white rows 

of uniform headstones blurring

by on a Colorado road trip...

 

shifting gears in Albany’s cemetery,

choice site for learning how to 

drive a stick shift with my father: 

stop, start, stall over quiet knolls...

 

we meet a painter in Zermatt, 

his easel set in a path beside plots

planted with flowers, each grave 

its own garden in a town banning cars;

 

final stroke and the painting is ours,

gifted to me at thirteen... forgive 

its fumbling pass from place to place; 

the art of traveling is what holds fast.

 

 

~Charise M. Hoge

 

 

Para mi papá, March 1929-January 2026

 

Fill the Blank

 

Happy New Year! It's a new frame to fill.

What to fill it with: ____________ __________________________ __________________________.

(hint, hint... your intents)

Cheers,

Charise

"Leda"

 

Leda

 

 

Is it consensual,

swan swooning

over the lady...

rushing her body 

as she bathes?

He, a god, uses

trickery three times.

Once, to don the swan,

then to take her down,

last, to drop the act.

All those feathers

she’ll feel forever.

 

~CMH 

My poem "Leda" was chosen for the latest "Next Line, Please" post. What a delight to see the opening lines as David Lehman's title!  Check out what else he has to say at: 

https://theamericanscholar.org/is-it-consensual-swan-swooning-over-the-lady/

Toot Your Horn

In the spirit of celebration, and with my friend's suggestion to "toot your horn," let me share some exciting news. I'm a Pushcart Prize nominee. It feels odd to say so, a bit bewildering, and I'm honored. Thanks to the team at Kelsay Books for selecting "Almost" as one of your six nominations. 

Cheers,
Charise

In Print

This poem from 2019 is included in the 2025 publication The Other Side of the Hill by the Capitol Hill Poetry Group, Pond Hill Press. It's as relevant now as before. 

And, when something is committed to print, it takes on another life. 

Sometimes a Haiku

 

cloud fell in our pond

leaf upon leaf surrenders

autumn has no qualms

~CMH