I had a dream about my first critique group, it was weird as dreams are, and I woke up with words on my mind. I listened. They had no obvious connection to the dream; they were just the beginning of the following poem. So, I wrote them down and, after a moment, the rest followed. When the thought was complete, the connection became clear to me. That’s not important to you, but maybe you’ll get something from the poem anyway.
Now, but oh …
There is frost on the pumpkin now,
but oh …
I remember summer.
Pink gold dawns
of dewy silence,
sigh and stretch and linger.
White bright noon
with chattering girls,
hopes and fears and laughter.
Dark hot nights
under dreamy boy,
lips and tongues and splendor.
There is frost on the pumpkin now,
but oh …
I remember summer.
Copyright © 2009 Linda Cassidy Lewis
Thank you for posting that poem. It certainly held a nostalgic feeling, and made me long for summer despite the fact that I absolutely adore winter. Winter exists in a realm of beauty all it’s own, and people shiver and scramble for the warmth that can’t come quickly enough, and I smile at them.
Since I live in California now, I no longer dread winter. It’s a contemplative time. And spring comes early.
Thank you for the poem, Linda. It is lovely and certainly conjures many images that tugs the heart.
You’re welcome, Laura.
You’re welcome, Laura. Thank you for reading.
I know the pink gold well – it’s one of my favorite colors. This is a lovely glimpse of nostalgia.
It reminds me of The Fantasticks’ “Try to Remember.” http://tinyurl.com/yz2zfsz
Thank you, Pamela. I appreciate you reading it. “Try to Remember” … yes, it’s like that.
This was very visual for me.
If it was a pleasant visual, thank you. If not, I’m sorry.
Lovely poem. I remember when I used to wake up with words on my mind. Now I go to sleep in a state of exhaustion and barely remember my dreams.
I notice you’re already kicking my butt in the cleaning challenge. In my defense I had a busy day, but tomorrow I plan to turn on the burners (especially because you’re all coming to my house on Tuesday).
You might get more sleep if you didn’t feel compelled to write ten novels a year … or three at a time!
And my dash out of the gate was husband inspired. I will no doubt lag behind today.
I love this poem! I love the music in this: “Pink gold dawns of dewy silence, sigh and stretch and linger.” That is beautiful in terms of its imagery and the sound and play of the words themselves.
So glad you decided to try your hand at poetry!
Thank you, Judy. Were you a cheerleader in school?
*Applauds* Linda–this is FANTASTIC! You’re a poet, my dear, like it or not. I LOVE this!
Bowing to your talent…..
No, no, no, Danielle, you cannot apply such a word to this! It pales, it turns ghostly, in comparison to yours. You have the ability, in such a few words, to delve deeply under the surface, like your current cinquain “Pumpkin Envy.”
That is very kind of you to say Linda, but I have to respectfully disagree. I really love this…back for a second read:)
Encore?
Since I’m not a poet, I don’t set out to write these things. They just sort of sneak up on me.
love this whole piece – the writing before the poem as well – making connections, starting. Especially “dewy silence” a good set up for the nostalgic feeling that this piece delivers.
I will pass along your appreciation to my muse.
That was awesome, Linda. Brilliant word pictures, captured in short, potent lines. I’m sort of your mirror image — I went from a place where winter is short and warm to a place where it’s the same as the election/voting process — early and often. It stays too long, wears out its welcome, then leaves folks scrambling for their piece of sun-worship.
And in the dregs of that white wasteland, they often remember summer. The larger metaphor for life captured in the stanza about the boy and the lips and tongue … well, which of us doesn’t smile whimsically at the memories those lines bring to the surface?
Bravo!
Oh my! I am taking a tiny bow … with a very red face.
Great poem, it is full of nostalgia. Thanks for sharing!
You’re welcome, Jennifer.
You evoke a tangible sense of melancholy (but pleasant remembering) with this. Great job.
Thank you, Cathryn. Melancholy, but pleasant … with a secret smile.