Marvelous bit of writing. I am there, was there. can still hear the Cicadias... vivid and personal
Aj
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Summers Past – Poems of Remembrance / Regret
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Re: Summers Past – Poems of Remembrance / Regret
A Lawn
I ponder the summertime lawn
and a jaded conclusion is drawn -
it’s empty, it’s green and it’s flat.
That’s all I can say about that.
OK it’s a nice place to sit,
you can soak up the sun for a bit
but the moment of pleasure will pass
then you get a bit bored with the grass
as you’re suffering under the glare
in a not-very-comfortable chair
wondering whether your sneezes
could be pollen-related diseases.
You get up and grumpily say:
That’s enough lawn for one day.
Yet there once was a time when a lawn was exciting!
- a limitless playground, wide and inviting,
a place of release, to the eyes of a child,
to go leaping and cartwheeling, carefree and wild,
bouncing with happiness, yelling with glee
feeling immortal, uplifted and free.
A place to inspire adventurous schemes,
a canvas for fantasies summoned from dreams.
Where gazing transfixed at a cloud drifting by,
you’d long to be up in that infinite sky
and flat on your back with the sun on your face,
you’d dream you could fly like a rocket through space.
But that’s not what you do
when you’re fifty two.
A lawn is a bore
and a wearisome chore.
And I can’t do a cartwheel
any more.
I ponder the summertime lawn
and a jaded conclusion is drawn -
it’s empty, it’s green and it’s flat.
That’s all I can say about that.
OK it’s a nice place to sit,
you can soak up the sun for a bit
but the moment of pleasure will pass
then you get a bit bored with the grass
as you’re suffering under the glare
in a not-very-comfortable chair
wondering whether your sneezes
could be pollen-related diseases.
You get up and grumpily say:
That’s enough lawn for one day.
Yet there once was a time when a lawn was exciting!
- a limitless playground, wide and inviting,
a place of release, to the eyes of a child,
to go leaping and cartwheeling, carefree and wild,
bouncing with happiness, yelling with glee
feeling immortal, uplifted and free.
A place to inspire adventurous schemes,
a canvas for fantasies summoned from dreams.
Where gazing transfixed at a cloud drifting by,
you’d long to be up in that infinite sky
and flat on your back with the sun on your face,
you’d dream you could fly like a rocket through space.
But that’s not what you do
when you’re fifty two.
A lawn is a bore
and a wearisome chore.
And I can’t do a cartwheel
any more.
To read more of my poems buy this big fat book - Rescued from Oblivion at https://www.feedaread.com/profiles/10661/
- Tracy Mitchell
- Posts: 3489
- Joined: Sun Jan 07, 2018 3:58 pm
Re: Summers Past – Poems of Remembrance / Regret
Cheryl -- I was coincidentally reading an essay today by Tess Gallagher about how a poem can be a time machine -- you have created that effect so masterfully here. I love this poem. I speak for the world.
Dylan -- as always, the Lawn is a shear delight.
Love this thread.
Dylan -- as always, the Lawn is a shear delight.
Love this thread.
Re: Summers Past – Poems of Remembrance / Regret
I remember everything,
and regret little,
some mistakes I've made
are just reminders,
road signs trying to make me STOP.
Signals I wouldn't have noticed
if I hadn't crashed before
and luckily, survived with only a dent
or a limp, either way...I walked
and walk still.
I bruise different now,
when young, they appeared within hours.
But I was fit, stupid and unconcerned
even when I bruised my bruises.
Now they wait days,
attempting to worry me, knowing
I struggle to remember their cause.
Some road signs say SLOW
part of me obliges, a little.
But there's still another saying
FUCK THAT SHIT!
and regret little,
some mistakes I've made
are just reminders,
road signs trying to make me STOP.
Signals I wouldn't have noticed
if I hadn't crashed before
and luckily, survived with only a dent
or a limp, either way...I walked
and walk still.
I bruise different now,
when young, they appeared within hours.
But I was fit, stupid and unconcerned
even when I bruised my bruises.
Now they wait days,
attempting to worry me, knowing
I struggle to remember their cause.
Some road signs say SLOW
part of me obliges, a little.
But there's still another saying
FUCK THAT SHIT!
- Tracy Mitchell
- Posts: 3489
- Joined: Sun Jan 07, 2018 3:58 pm
Re: Summers Past – Poems of Remembrance / Regret
Go! Go! Go!