Ice crystals glistening like faceted diamonds
On fingers of snow piling on the sun porch
Where the sun is supposed to be in charge,
Winter’s white satiny gown shimmers, and,
Reflections on nearing spring are dead and gone.
Still, tomorrow will see a cloudless, blue sky
Temperatures low, but blue sky is promising,
I shall continue to think of warmer days ahead.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written March 13, 2022
Brian Strand Contest
SEPTEMBER 25, 2021
It was a bright sun, blue sky day,
refreshingly cool, destined to be short
in a post autumnal equinox way, the morning
farmer’s market shimmering with activity,
with varieties of produce and the multiple
languages of the neighbors we love
Still in full leaf, the neighborhood was green
with red and yellow edges, bright leaves and
sunlight partners in a dance, diamonds in the
breeze, the burning bush hedge beyond the
sun-filled sun porch windows a fiery fall red,
the book on my lap no match for the performance
of a fall afternoon with the intermittent sounds
of child play on our block, the plaintive soprano of
Welsh folk music and my wife in the kitchen
generating aromas, the first in a season of stews
and red wines, cornbread and puddings, the spirits
and spells of thanksgiving and grace, preparation
for the solstice and the cold days beyond!
DREAMING OF HOME
When I dream of home
I think of you and I on the sun porch
Warm sunrises shining on my morning face
Giving me my family grace
Dreaming of you in the kitchen
Sipping a warm morning brew
of coffee caffeine latte
When I dream of home
I dream of you and I together
Dream of dreams I dream of you
Dreams of dreams ahh, those views
Living in within these four walls of love
That I love...
Surrounded by those insulation windows
Surrounded by that old vintage crown molding
Beautiful moments, remember those velvet silk curtains
So all those memories we've had in this house
Moments of love all those days and nights
Love was expressed within the four walls
The remembrance of the place where we raised our family
When we laugh we cried, even died, this I remember when I'm alone
Dreaming of home
2/3/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
arranged music by Kevin Kern
If you look backwards in time you might see us
It was August… too many summers ago to recall
Sometime after midnight, ….my brother and I
Slipping through the valley of sleep
Crawling out the window, to the roof of the old sun-porch
Drinking excitement in late summer's breeze
Sprawled on a bed of shingles and leaves
Anticipation growing with each falling star
Holding our breaths, as the sky fell apart…
… while waiting to see if the world would end
Another year drifted by, other summers would fly
Childhood changed shapes, many ways like the wind
We forgot of the thrill of that lone summer night
Chill of winter set in,… with the worst kind of news,
...our mother was ill
Through the sill of the window, we heard bitter cold wind
We sat her bed, while a new storm was brewing
…….She was slipping…..slipping into the valley of sleep
Together we'd been, now together again,…. sometime after midnight
…waiting, we were, for our world to end
______________________________________________________________
1/26/16
For Contest: "Waiting"
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
The Seasons of the Sun ©
angle of fall’s sun
so different from spring’s rays
dapples the sun porch
end of hot summer
the crisp, sharp tang of fall’s breath
smokes the air about
a waiting for sleep
under the blanket of snow
until spring sun beams
Trisha Sugarek
World of Haiku
If you look backwards in time
you might see us
It was August
too many summers ago to recall
long after midnight
my brother and I
slipping through the valley of sleep
crawling out the window
onto the roof of the old sun-porch
drinking in excitement of the fresh night air
sprawled on a coarse gravel bed
searching the starry night
and watching for the first time
as the sky fell apart
then waiting for the world to end
Summers Warmth
Authored by Chuck Keys
What happens to the summer’s warmth in the fall?
Does it stay in nostalgia’s book of memories?
Or is it found inside
... a wrinkled coffee stained yellowed crossword puzzle section,
Blowing eloquently with the wind on the chaise in the sun porch?
What if the summer’s warmth just fades into introspection?
With all of its self doubts and hesitancies,
Where the mind ceases conscious thoughts of fancy and free,
Slowly drifts back into the beauty and fragrances that once were present.
What if the summer’s warmth doesn't want to leave,
And stays inside our minds and hearts, waiting,
To come forth, eternally,
Stronger, wiser and agelessly aggressive; alive.
In the autumn of our seasons,
Where time flows to and fro,
Where beauty and passion rests inside those with heart,
Where the summers warmth exists, forever.
Even in the cold winter months of soon to be.