For dverse.
Defining
Shadows, the obverse of light,
light, the glow, darting shafts, golden swell of the sun,
sun, radiance in the dark,
dark, the sifted debris of day,
day, the rising from the ashes of night,
night, the mantle of space, embroidered with stars,
stars, the crucibled origin of fire,
fire, thirsty tongues that lap up the shadows.
Ripples
Shadows grow
slow and long
songs sing
wings beat
heat pours
soars the bird
word speaks
beaks jab
grab and stab
dab the fish
a-swish in the shallows
hallow this glade
made of shadows.
The shadows’ seasons
Is there a form in that clustered darkness
the shape of light before, behind?
Does it grow, stalk cut-throat close to the wall,
or shrink, burdened with the weight of age?
Do roses clamber, apples swell, sweet and ripe,
where is lies dense as fog and ignorance?
I see no pulse of life in that grey,
no bees feed, birds nest, no children play,
and the old folk draw their chairs into the sun,
move the plants to a sunny sill,
shun the gathering cold, the touch of winter.
Each of these is beautifully penned, I love the question / response lines in “The Shadows’ Seasons.”
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Thank you, Helen xx
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My goodness this is good! 😍 I especially admire this part; “Do roses clamber, apples swell, sweet and ripe, where is lies dense as fog and ignorance?” 🩷🩷
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Thanks Sanaa. I’m pleased you like that one. I realised this morning that I’d not posted the whole poem. It was missing the opening lines. Corrected now.
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Much food for thought in this beautifully penned verse.
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Thank you, Shirley xx
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Shadows do have seasons. And times of day as well. I especially like the repetition in the first poem. (K)
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Thank you. It’s all part of that great cyclical movement.
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It is.
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Three poems for one, a bargain and a delightful read to start my morning, Jane! I love the way the repeated words alternate like flickering in ‘Defining’, and the phrases ‘crucibled origin of fire’ and ‘thirsty tongues that lap up the shadows’; how the echoing words cause ‘Ripples’ through the poem, and the long shadow of winter is cast in the lines:
‘no bees feed, birds nest, no children play,
and the old folk draw their chairs into the sun,
move the plants to a sunny sill, shun the gathering cold…’
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Thank you! I wrote and posted this batch just before bedtime, and I realise now that I’d chopped off the opening lines of the third one. Full poem up now 🙂
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I’ll check it out!
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I like this exploration of shadows. I especially like the final lines of “The Shadows’ Seasons.”
We both had light through trees. 🙂
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Thank you 🙂 I didn’t see you’d posted one. I’ll go read.
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You’re welcome. I posted it this morning. 😊
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Beautiful poems; especially enjoyed the second one – could imagine it being recited while on a forest walk.
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Thank you! I like that idea 🙂
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A pleasure to consume your work this morning.
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Thank you! You’re lucky to read it this morning and not last night. I only posted half of the last poem. Didn’t realise till this morning and edited it.
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I love each poem but the last one, The Shawdows’ Seasons is the best. Wonderful to read tonight Jane.
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Thank you Grace. The last one is the real ‘poem’. The others are more like exercises.
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Beautiful verses, Jane, especially the last one.
I keep repeating myself and ‘beautiful’ may seem so banal but when I read your poems, that’s the first word that comes to my mind. 🙂
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Thank you so much, Punam. If there’s one thing I believe every poem should have, it’s a grain of beauty. I’m so pleased you find it in my poems.
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You are so welcome. It is always there in your poems. xoxo
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Then I’m happy with them xx
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🙂
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