Mist

one of those image works

                     Mist

                            

 

 

                       Watch summers orange rising

                        Calling up the sunrise

                        Of a glory ridden

                        By a Vedic hymn

                        

 I was solstice morn’s

                        Where Meadowsweet dropped honey

                        Upon the yellow oxlips

                        Frosted under the monument

                    

                       Or my backward glance

                       To dew danced rainbows  

                       Circling in floral mist

                       About the hills embrace

               

                        Times a smoke strand

                        Roaming from Lime wood

                        Into the starlit chill

                        And winter night blue

                       

                       Here on seasonal backdrops

                       Blind to the scale

                       A life is realized

                       Defined by our toys

                        

                       A drunk journey home

                       As fearless bales leapt

                       To folk song attempts

                       Selected from the seconds

                       

                       Us nothings under meteors

 OOHing and the aahhing

                       As the cobweb trails

                       Glint among the stars

                     

                        On the belfry breaks

                        Using the empty nave

                        To refine ones bowling

                        Into western sun streams                      

 

                        And daily morning yearnings

                        Conjoured by the words

                        ‘that’s my mother’s wood’

                         Unrequited from the hilltop

                 

                         The July dusk touch

                         Decided a new pathway

                         Of walking under bridges

                         Of listening to woe

 

                          Sitting amongst the wheat

                          Finding my own cubism

                          I listened and drew

                          Into this present history

                   

 

  Landscape unfolds as romance

Through the travailed passage

Into a green unknowing

Of some painted pastoral

 

The Terra firma undulates

Under the psyches clouds

As waves of  atmosphere

Mould the world contour

 

Alone beside my oasis

I question eclogue tales

Accused by constant stares

From the penitent wall

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are a master of getting us to the exact spot with your descriptions...
a few drinks can enhance the video, as we immerse ourselves in Nature's beautiful show.
there is appreciation for a parent here...but also a stopping to take it all in...like "stopping by the woods on a snowy evening"
i was singing along here, but slurring the words.
nicely done, as always, Michael...
j.

[Michael Oliver]

Thnak you for your perceptive review Jacob. You pointed to an aspect of the subtext I was not aware of while writing, but now with hindsight I see it is imbued with that glow - the appreciation of my Fathers world - thank you