We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done
As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”
I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you
As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in
If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet
The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat
I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”
At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”
I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you
Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun
We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars
Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows
Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake
Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue
The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know
If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least
Written for john's Summer contest.
Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,
coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic.
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge
for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards
its head - and the barely living turn to listen.
The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for
its self-professed being and looming enormity.
She looks at the broken window glass and
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens.
This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental
scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards;
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.
Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron,
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of –
I lived. This mother of five young does not cry,
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through
unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking;
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living.
The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence,
welcoming her familiar face home.
© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009
*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration;
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there
every summer until it was gone...
Wind so cold.
Fondles my face.
The tears from heaven.
I wonder if i wish
to stop them
The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin
with the pure coldness that you bring.
like it's my first time in the snow.
the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.
The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here.
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
And again I fold.
Not all is lost.
In rotting wood,
Under the garden chair,
of summer shoes lie -
Not all roses die
when summer goes.
Somewhere a rose
is blooming still,
waiting to be found.
Morning Mist and Summer Rain
Far away from the noise of the city
I walked in the quiet of a country lane
nothing to distract me this day
but the morning mist,
turning into a summer rain.
I was born to be free from my troubles
born to smell the freshness of the day
nothing to accompany me on my trip
but the morning mist, turning into a summer rain.
There are times when I must be free,
away from the cares and worries of this life,
when I can walk alone in this world
with nothing but the morning mist, turning into a summer rain.
Sometimes in all my wanderings
I talk with my God up above,
it's amazing what I will hear,
when walking in a morning mist, turning into a summer rain.
A symphony of sounds are present
from the creatures who live nearby,
from the call of a coyote drifting on the wind
to the birds in their nests where they lie,
all add to the beauty of this day,
when filled with nothing but a morning mist....turning into a summer rain.
My love for life is all around
given by a God who cares from up above,
it is seen most clearly on a country lane
when walking in a morning mist, turning into a summer rain.
I wake on the sand
Right near the beach
You have yet to awake
Far out of reach
And Daybreak has arrived
A beauty unlike any other
Comparable only to us, girl
And how we love each other
So I gaze up alone
Marveling up at the sky
The warmth of the sun
Drying my eyes
I'm reflecting on us
Oh how each other we trust
I'm just so happy we're together
And I think to myself,
Just as this sun, we'll last forever
Then returning to be with you
I lay again now
Place my hand gently
On your warm tender shoulder
While I think of our lives today, love
And how they'll be when we're older...
I know there'd be no other way
So "I Love You" I make sure I say
To you, each and everyday
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
You are in my heart wherever I go;
You I will never let go.
You are with me always;
You I am always.
This is love.
Build by God above,
This is love.
Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
For kicks is why I do it now.
You tell me to love but I never knew how.
Our feet hitting pavement,
We spent the day in sunny California with sun kissed skin.
I’m learning to forget and how to fade scars,
And you let me let myself down so hard.
Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
And now I just do it for smiles,
We’ll never see flower girls stumbling down aisles.
I’d lose my head just before that chance,
But if you want we can still have a first dance.
Cause I think I say things that I don’t mean,
Once upon a time you meant the world to me.
Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
But I’m trying to refrain,
To make this not all end up in vain.
Maybe I can learn to love like some people do,
And you can learn to love yourself a little too.
Or it is in all fairness to let this go?
I guess we can try but then we’ll never know.
By a still pond where the water lilies plate the mirror fair
the dragonflies in neon burst unzip the summer air
beneath the wilting willow in rippling rows of reed
the warblers spring like acrobats their hungry young to feed
the electric blue of kingfisher as he arrows from his post
on unsuspecting sticklebacks that fill his daily quote
the lazy drone of honeybees in drunken paths of flight
weave and fall haphazardly on every flower in sight
The pond King sits in majesty upon his padded throne
And surveys with green impassive eye the kingdom that he owns
Somewhere in the roof of blue a pair of skylarks call
enjoy these days of Summer for sudden comes the fall
As the days grow shorter I feel discontent,
I look at summer and wonder where it went.
I remember in the recent past when days were long,
Only to realize the summer is now gone.
I still enjoy autumn with its chill in the air,
The skies are still blue and the weather quite fair.
Soon so many colors will be displayed in the trees,
I’m not quite ready for the impending winters freeze.
As I get older I see time does fly,
I watch as the trees start to die.
They explode in color in one last stance,
Seeming to invite me for one last dance.
Another summer’s gone the air start to chill,
I view all the beauty from on top of this hill.
I watch and listen but it all seems strange,
Summer becomes autumn Is this new change.
I remember this summer with days that don’t end,
All that I’ve met become those I befriend.
I’m not really sad but wish for more time,
But I can’t help but see the clock just unwind.
The world keeps spinning as this season shall come.
Still time is left for me to stand in the sun.
I’m thankful to greet just one more day,
I still hoped that summer wouldn’t be on its way.
As the chill grows I will wrap my coat around you.
Together we shall cherish all we’ve been through.
I remember hope and how it helps me survive,
I want this one day and feel so alive.
I blew off.
A wisp of a summer breeze
and a muse held me fast.
Visions of inspiration
flew like barn swallows
over fields and trees verdant,
swelling and contracting.
Charmed by their aerial pirouettes
captivated and content,
I clapped with delight.
The balmy summer breeze
Gently caresses the harvest saffron moon
While it dreams memories of autumn’s golden red kiss
Trees are shedding their emerald green summer tresses
Kindly kissing the Earth as their garments fall gently below
And flowers have shed their vivid colorful dresses
As crimson amber leaves gently anoint the ground for show
While Summer sheds her beautiful clothes -
Mother Nature lovingly seduces her to dream
She's kissed the shore with her elegant colorful attire
She has painted the world with her exquisite apparel
So now it's time for her yearly seasonal retire
She paraded us with her resplendent painted scenes
Blessed the birds in their angelic symphony of songs
So now -it’s time for her to drink the dreams of slumber
Taking the cup of restful sleep - is now where she belongs
She asks the moon to wait patiently...
For her splendid colorful return
When she'll paint the world with her radiant painted tresses
Where once more her regal colors will burn
She'll brush the Earth in regal glorious colors
Dressing up again in her brilliant, picturesque dresses
As the ruby red blaze of autumn begins to kiss the Earth
With her dazzling hues of gold and coral valor
But before she goes...
She gently reaches out with her one last caress...
Softly whispering as she sweetly kisses the moon
”It’s time now for fall - it’s time for me to undress”
She softly breathes her dulcet ending tune...
"Goodnight", she gently whispers ...
"I’ll see you soon Mr. Moon
Please...will you wait for my return?
Quietly - she drifts into her splendid, peaceful dreams…
Slumbering peacefully -
Safely harbored in Mother Nature’s loving arms
As mellow zephyrs gently caress autumn's waiting whispers
While the moon drizzles its shimmering dusty charms
Serenading nature with his soft silvery tune
As this luminous gleaming Luna Mister
Cordially opens his welcoming hands
To September's colors of orange and golden browns
Awaiting the arrival of dancing petals
As he gently embraces autumn's leaf draped lands
Next he’ll greet the season’s sister
From the pristine silverblue Northern Isles...
Awaiting dancing ivory snowflakes he'll cheerfully greet winter
With his warm welcoming golden smile
As the night is consumed by crimson mist, I stand surrounded by all manner of nefarious foes, both human and demon, living and dead as I stand my eyes burn with draconic flame I feel the lust ,the lust for blood and vengeance revenge for their words and actions, chains and abuse their acid venom The blades they used that flayed my flesh from my body leaving me with bones and sinew leaving me raw not an inch of skin left to protect me
As I start toward my foes, consumed by blood lust and the flames of vengeance when wolves of silver rush in front of me and from the shadow of the wood a man and woman appear both handsome and lovely clad in white; from the black skies a wall of gold and black shimmering with light appear holding back my foes
In the air clad in gold and black scales emanating power a dragon comes and from the earth rises a sylph ,a cold wind blows as summer leafs and the scent of honey mix with the frigid air around us and two Fae one of the winter and one of the summer court come walking out of the wind
then dragon fire flames the barrier between me and my foes , the Fae speak in an unknown tongue immediately wind gathers gathering my foes in a tornado of such power that non could avoid the earth arose around the fury of the storm as the pair in white strode into the storm soon I heard not pain but moans of joy emanate inside wolves rushed in soon there came limbs flying from the maelstrom of power the dragon rose into the air above the magic’s of those around me soon the smell of burning flesh flooded my nose soon the carnage was over
this is also a personification
The city's august hell-heat
choking lungs and stinging eyes,
stranded car and driver hoods agape
spew boiling geysers to a summer sky.
And we, as cattle going to market
slowly inch our way toward the promise of relief.
Beside me in the traffic
I (with shutter-camera eye)
briefly caught the image
of a sister of the search.
Her eyes were your eyes
were eyes of longing and wonderment.
The city's august hell-heat
now unnoticed faded into memories
of a summer long ago
when we, beneath a backyard cherry tree,
would speak of transcendental Love and Truth.
Your queries were more answer than question,
your requests, an unexpected gift
that like the sylvan canopy above my head
gave refuge from a singeing inner heat.
Remember the days of long ago
When we would sit and dream?
We'd rock upon our summer porch
And eat our own ice cream.
We'd watch the birds work and play
And we'd listen to the trees.
Sometimes, we'd just close our eyes
And feel the gentle breeze.
Remember the summer nights
When the stars would shine so bright?
The crickets would sing their noisy song
Until the morning light.
We'd walk along the garden path
Underneath the moon.
And we'd listen to the lonely owl
Hoot his eerie tune.
The world has quickly sped on by
Without us really knowing.
We've been left to wonder where we are
And where it is we're going.
i speak trouble yes
i speak trouble
late night rumble
very quiet mumble
slipped in subtle
suddenly i want to see
the warmth right before
the crunching of some autumn leaves
too hot at noon, makes the warmest evenings
writing on walls, illegal to draw
remind me of nights, all fear was small
bliss and inner peace
abundant as dinner treats
everyday i made away
with darker skin, and dirty feet
heart disease not bittersweet
park and freeze like little creeps
when passerby, might quantify
activities, helping secrets to keep
no such trouble yes
no such trouble
all the wonder, many lovers
i wrestled and played with shovels
pedestrian and landlord
i rummaged through the rubble
pasta without sauce, and gallons of tap water
vaporizing sacred flowers
that smell of exotic jungles
worries never entering
my vision like a tunnel
fleeting as a hummingbird
never ashamed to cuddle
never new a softer word
never cared for struggle
running free to paradise
cause my license priced had doubled
delighted to ride a bike
rain reason not to huddle
traveled all i sought to see
carpool or a shuttle
impermanence just a word
pouring down the funnel
It’s always behind or in front
seems it needs a door to get to
never complains when it rains
pleasantly, pets poop & pee
friends & family cross to hug me
my connect out there
in the back and front
it’s what I have now for all the hard
that stretch out there
I do not know?
Those Distant African Nights...
The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,
a cool breeze teasing your bare back,
streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,
as my hands stroked your hair,
kissing your soft mouth,
ever so tight.
You whispered that you loved me,
and I kept silent,
the rain fell,
the breeze teased your naked back,
you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,
the rain washed over our tender nights,
lightning and candlelight,
etching poems on your burnished skin,
a fear gnawed at me,
We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,
now, after numberless thunderstorms,
the rain that falls,
echo the countless tears that I have shed.
You are long gone,
happy, I pray,
yet the memories persist,
those precious moments shall never,
like the Jo'burg rains,
and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,
for it was I who was not worthy,
and it is I who is not worthy,
You were always true,
it was I who always,
to give myself,
completely to you.
my mark is fresh like snow in air
brisk and mist will crisp on hair
fists ball up from risk to care
whisper and stare but all is fair
love and reason, flow like seasons
the endings blending and quite seeming
parts of hearts, tho awake or dreaming
half is seeing, the other believing
eyes align and beats will sync
eyes a line for heat to sink
taken quickly for a fall
lovers stroll through memories' hall
echoes stir sight and scent
my senses flight keeps suspense
until logic teaches what it meant
all good things come to an end
summer lighting longer days
more hours to burn for lovers lay
precious tokens we hope to stay
from constant change or parting ways
spring into action to save those astray
a few more years can cost a pay
with lives and sacrifice displayed
perhaps tomorrow will be okay
years can fly like clouds in sky
feelings revealing what to decide
and just like that were back to try
to love the same until we die
I do not know?
Who takes the last breath in the summer sun?
I'll die in autumn disaster smiling for the purity I've seen
Sullen sun rain on me
A fleeing soul into the dark and deep
Kisses never here
Make me stone when i am dead
Take away my name
Tell god i've been shamed since Cesarean escape....
...I didn't know what I was getting into.....
I'll take my last look when the summer comes
I do not know?
A path leads,
to where wild grass grows,
sashaying in the summer breeze.
Along the path,
lightness settles within,
feeling the grass,
swaying to the lilting bird-song,
in a dance of intimate abandon,
brushing the remnants of pain away.
Melodies float across fields of green,
delicately caressing my heart,
teasing emptiness to flee,
comforting the mind,
to silently be.
savouring the peace,
a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,
all is quiet,
a stillness cradling fractured emotions,
the grass in the fields sway,
nudging dimming light to take leave,
of the day
You look up to the sky.
It is a normal summer day like any other.
Sparse clouds line the sky and the sun beats down on you.
Except this is no ordinary summer day.
This is the day you ship out.
You have said your good byes and cried with your lovers.
The weight of your country rests upon your shoulders.
It beats down on you much like the sun.
It burns you if you are not properly prepared,
much like the sun.
Much like the sun you are depended on by all that you known.
Depended on by your country.
Much like the sun,
you fade away into the night appearing in a different country
After the rain, the sun
on grass and lane,
aromas that could belong
only to summer.
Sometimes, in later months,
we would pretend December’s rain
was July’s as we gazed
through steam-beaded glass,
the crackling fire behind us,
saying little, hardly need of words.
We would imagine we smelled the grass,
anointed with the gentle summer spray,
its beneficent caress,
so light of touch,
like a lover’s fingertips
brushing cherished flesh.
The crackling fire before us now,
we sit, say little, so few words to say,
each recalling how, long ago,
we could turn winter into summer.
I do not know?
My joy at its best, my hurt at its worst.
My joy at your conception and my belly swelling.
My hurt at your birth with waves of contractions.
My joy at your first steps in those booties I knitted.
My hurt as you fell down and bumped your head.
My joy at your first word spoken mama.
My hurt when we argued about a sleepover and you cried I hate you.
My joy over your first report card with all the A’s.
My hurt when you were expelled from eighth grade for possession.
My joy when you took responsibility young man and changed your ways.
My hurt as you leaned on my shoulder and cried over losing your first love.
My joy in your pride after working the summer to buy your first car.
My hurt that you are no longer my little baby but a young man.
I am forever a woman in motherhood,
My joy at its best and my hurt at its worst.
I remember the day I first saw her face on the school bus such an uneasy place
we both were shy it took months just to talk soon enough we would always walk
from the stop to her house were I d stand uneasy the sweat would pool in my right hand
One night late after school she came to my house I tried to be cool
she asked if I would like to go out of course I did but I was nervous anxious filled with doubt
we spent a whole summer just hanging out some times I got so nervous I wanted to shout
I recall how she first placed her hand in mine I was sweating so bad I was losing my mind
the touch of her fingers in my sweaty palm gave comfort unknown and a relieving calm
I realize now she was just as scared but she seemed so calm ready and aware
she became my very best friend but even I knew the summer would end
before the fall came an took her away we spent time with each other everyday
a few weeks before school started again we went to the park are spot back then
she looked in my eyes for ever it seemed I was confused and young I almost screamed
then she leaned towards me with the sweetest touch she said shed miss me very much
and then it happen her lips searched and found mine out in that moment it removed all doubt
an innocent peek between dearest of friends learning how such things have there ends
after school started that year she moved away I have not seen her since that day
Forever she holds a piece of my heart the innocents we shared was ours from the start
even tho Ive grown a lot since then that young love is for thick and thru thin
we never took not a thing from one another we held each other up learned from one another
I wonder if she thinks of me I think of her and lonely nights I hope she lives happily
youth is something you cannot keep I miss those days on the grass we would sleep
somewhere inside the shy little boy waits for the day he might see that girl once again
the soul that taught me how to love and to be loved how to end and how to begin
I know ill never see her again I know its only memories something lost to the past
if I would have known it would end that way and be over so quick so dam fast
I would have told her more of the true me maybe then Id feel whole at last
sweet first love I hope you find a life of love and find your faith in the god above
she will always been in my heart and mind and for now we must leave us behind
I often wonder,
In those fragile moments between dream and waking,
If what I know of good,
And what I I know of evil are what creates the complexity that is me.
Do the two intertwine,
Compacted together so they form some semblance of normality?
Or if they are opposing forces,
Neither winning in a battle of dominance over my psyche.
The later of these two appears to be the case,
Because I'm always the same,
But so very different after each and every passing moment.
Peering inside myself,
I imagine that this is what I would see:
I can be shallow as a puddle,
Growing ever smaller under the summer sun.
Or deep as an ocean trench,
Teeming with mystery.
I can be childish as a girl on her first day of school,
At first too scared to let go of her mother,
And then off making friends with everyone nearby.
Or I can be wise as the old woman,
Seeing so much more of the world in seconds,
Knowing every secret at a glance.
I can be smooth and cold as marble,
Indifferent and never yielding.
Or rough as the bark of a sun bathed oak,
Showing all that I have openly.
I can be harsh as a blizzard,
Searing with my very touch.
Or gentle as a spring breeze,
Playfully whistling in your ear.
I can be sorrowful as a summer monsoon,
Raining torrents until no more will come forth,
Or cheering as a spring rain that leaves a rainbow in its wake.
Of devil or angel,
I choose neither.
Both deny themselves the freedom I hold so dear.
The ability to choose between kind or cruel,
Gentle or harsh,
Raging or comforting,
And most of all,
Between hate or love.
I am me,
No one else,
And all the warring elements that make me are the most ugly,
And beautiful things in the world.
All these and so much more are who I am,
Who I can be,
And what I long for myself to grow into.
As all things must someday,
These thoughts drift away,
Lost once again inside me.
Fading as the night does once it reaches dawn,
For I am in that space between dream and waking no longer.
I find myself seated in Biology,
With my teacher shooting daggers from her eyes,
Asking pointedly if my nap had been restful enough.
And I say how sorry I am,
Scrambling to answer her,
Working fervently until she turns away.
Then and only then,
For somewhere in between heart and mind,
All those things still exist.
Waiting until I can wonder again,
To find them in that space,
Both singular and vast.
Ever searching for the thing that one calls a soul.
How sweet the honey suckled air,
long summer days without a care,
(our childhood feet were always bare),
spent playing in the hot sun's glare.
On summer nights we played 'til dark,
in fields among the meadowlarks,
to us, it was a real ball park,
we left there sweaty, faces marked.
Through darkness lit with fireflies,
(like walking home through star-filled skies),
our sleep was deep, life simplified,
lulled by cricket's lullabies.
Carolina's endless summers,
filled with play and guiltless slumbers,
children free and unencumbered,
unaware our days were numbered.
Walking down the dusty country road
Skipping rocks over the creek
Running through the pasture chasing cows
Taking a long dip in a cool lake on a hot summer day
Catching a horny toad to bring home to Mom
Whistling my way down the long dusty road
Free to do whatever I please along the way
What a great way to spend a summer day
is the pain i write
will be only
a something faintly
tied up in a scarlet
ribbon in my rubble
laughter in the summer
yellowed as the white i
wore and obscured by my
view of you
playing, laughing... rescuing..
and acting like we were grown-
ups living a life
how much better the
hot summer used to get
sweat on our lips and
kissing like children at
playing enough not to
hurt two hearts we
Forever we spoiled the
summer of 76.