#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – On The River

After ten days of celebrating National Poetry Month (via a glut of my own work 😉 ), I’m wrapping up today with one last poem. It’s the longest one in the book, I think, and it’s the only one I’d call somewhat autobiographical. Many of you know, I’m a nature lover at heart, and enjoy birding, hiking, camping, and for many years–until my back refused to cooperate–canoeing. I can’t tell you how many, many miles I’ve traveled via my trusty Bluebird, but it’s always been my favorite way to enjoy Florida’s rivers. So, this one definitely has a lot of “me” in it.

Thanks to all of you who have read, shared, and taken the time to let me know your thoughts on these little verses. It has been a real boost to my somewhat sagging spirits, as I struggled to get over this wretched cold. You are absolutely the BEST! Now without further ado, here’s my final National Poetry Month offering for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy it.

On the River
by Marcia Meara

Crystal green flows beneath me,
Leafy arches rise above,
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.
          Slide.

Duckweed parts as I float by.
I wonder where they went,
Those ducks?
Gone overnight, it seems.
Another parting, another loss,
And I slide by,
Under all that green.
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.

Just there, in deepest shade,
Sleeping emeralds cling.
Tree frogs rest in their
Smooth, damp skins
Waiting for the silver moon.
They’ll open their eyes for the silver moon.
Sleeping now,
As I pass by.
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.

With arms raised to that same moon,
I once danced along the shore,
Young and wild and full of joy.
Moving to music
That stirred my soul,
And washed in that pale light,
I danced.
Years ago, in that pale, pale light.
I remember it all,
And so much more,
As I slide by.
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.

A scaled ribbon of vivid lime
Scribbles across my bow,
Curving by in his own silent slide.
I smile at Dickinson’s “narrow fellow”
Tasting the air with his tongue of flame.
I feel no “zero at the bone” for him,
For I have known far worse than he,
And survived.
With a nod of my head,
I pass him, too.
And on I go.
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.

Time and time and time goes by,
And still, green fronds protect me from above,
Green water lifts me from below,
Carrying me ceaselessly on my way.
Slower, now that Youth is gone,
Yet, sometimes a froth of foam and spray
Reminds me of those early days,
When all the water rushed clear and cold,
And teemed with Promise so bright
You could almost catch it in your hands.
That bubbling spring where it all began,
Now lies so far behind.
Far behind, and long ago,
While I move on.
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.

Always forward,
One stroke at a time,
The only path from Here to There.
One stroke following another,
And I, all the while,
Still cherish the trees above,
The water below.
I wonder as a turn grows near,
What adventures wait beyond the bend?
Will they make my heart beat fast again?
How many shimmering curves lie before me yet?
How long does my river flow?
  Dip, glide.
     Dip, glide.
          Dip, glide.             
              Slide.

Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies: 

Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX

Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q

SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb

Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – Title Poem

 

This is the poem that started the book, and I hope you like it. I will probably post one more tomorrow, and then try to get back with my “regularly scheduled programming” next week, if all goes well, and I’m able to resume my normal workload. In the meantime, I hope this one makes you smile. 🙂

Summer Magic
by Marcia Meara

Crawling quietly from his tent,
His dad still lost in slumber within,
He sits down alone on the granite slab,
Coltish legs drawn up to his chin,
And arms wrapped around skinny knees.
He gazes toward the pale horizon,
Watching the sleeping valley below.
With breath held in anticipation,
He waits for the magic
He knows will come.

There! A thin curve of molten red!
A far away sliver of fiery light
Breaks the horizon.
Rising slowly,
It bathes the tops of the rolling hills
In a brilliant spill of gold.
Mother-of-pearl dawn
Gives way to butter yellow
Morning light.

In front of his wide, blue eyes,
The world awakens.
Magic arrives and
Day is born,
Again.

He smiles to himself and wraps
His arms more tightly
Around his knees,
Shivering in private delight, and
Holding the beauty
Close within,
Having already learned
Some magic is
Secret.

Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies: 

Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX

Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q

SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb

Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt

 

 

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – Indian Summer


Wrong season for this one, I suppose, but I trust you’ll forgive me if I share it anyway. 🙂 Though it wasn’t written with them in mind, specifically, it always makes me think of Mac as a badly scarred adult, and Sarah, who showed him the way back. Enjoy!

Indian Summer
Marcia Meara

He sees her standing
Below the falls,
Carefully balanced
On the slippery rocks,
And laughing
In the hazy October sun.

Only yesterday
The ice-rimmed pool
Mirrored angry gray clouds,
And a wind out of the north
Chilled his bones.
Today, a warm yellow sun
Has eaten the frost,
And resurrected the ghost
Of a summer already laid to rest.

She’s wearing shorts,
As if she knew
There would be a reprieve
And dressed accordingly.
Dampened hems, and a
Misty sheen on
Her long, slim legs
Bear testament to
The wind-blown spray.
Her loosened hair is a
Sable cloud swirling
Around her face,
Smelling faintly
Of August nights
And tupelo honey.

She turns toward him,
Radiant and joyful,
Filled with a wonder
Most have long lost.
Her smile invites him
To let go of autumn
To share the sunshine,
To be reborn in this moment.

Surprised, his mouth
Curves in response, and
His soul cries,
Yes, oh yes!
Desperation gives voice
To need long ignored.
Yes, he thinks again,
Walking toward her.
I want the light,
The warmth, the wonder.
Show me, teach me.

He takes her hand, and
Lets the sunlight
Flood his heart,
Thawing the frost within,
Setting him free.

Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies: 

Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX

Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q

SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb

Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt

 

 

 

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – DeepPockets

 

Today’s offering returns to the Mac at Ten section of Summer Magic. Hope you enjoy the images I tried to capture. 🙂

Deep Pockets
     by Marcia Meara

He sits cross-legged
On smooth, gray granite
Outside the tent,
And watches the light
Turn from gold to silver,
Caught in that space between
Daylight and dusk,
When all things seem possible,
And the remarkable,
Ordinary.

To hold his day
Longer, closer,
He goes through his pockets,
And chooses memories
To save forever.
He lays out treasures
Found on the trail,
One by one,
In neat rows upon the rock,
And studies each item with
Solemn consideration,
Weighing the merits
Of this over that.

It takes time to decide
Which to take home,
Which to show his mother,
And which he will line up
Along his shelves,
To be looked at
Again and again,
On dreary, gray days
When the warmth of summer
Is a visitor long departed.
Decisions like these
Aren’t made in a moment,
But rather, by pondering
Carefully, thoughtfully.

Here, a feather
Of startling blue,
Found beneath a jay’s
Untidy nest.
And this? This rumpled,
Transparent length,
Imprinted by the scales
Of the snake it once clothed?
His mother will squeal
In pretend horror,
But will smile and relent.
Yes, he thinks.
I’ll keep this one, too.

One by one,
They come out of his pockets
Like rabbits from a magician’s hat.
Pale, blue stones rubbed smooth in the creek.
A snail shell whirled in cream and tan,
Thin as tissue, yet still intact.
A triangular piece of glittery flint,
Sharp and pointed along one side,
Like an arrowhead left unfinished.
Yes, to all of these!
They are mine now,
Part of my summer.

Pockets turned out
To the bottom, he finds —
Half a stick of linty gum,
A rusty key, stuck
In a broken lock.
A pencil stub,
A whistle that doesn’t blow,
And a few unidentified crumbs.
No, and no, and no.

He’s made his choices,
And tucked them away,
In an old plastic box, under his cot.
Maybe he’ll look at them
Long years from now,
Conjuring up these weeks
Spent camping with his dad,
When every day was an adventure,
Captured in the blue of a feather,
Caught in the curve of a shell,
Or a piece of glittery flint.
He’ll think about these
Endless summers, and remember
How simple it all seemed,
When he was a boy
Of ten.

Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies: 

Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX

Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q

SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb

Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt

 

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – Promises

 

Another change of pace for today’s offering. (Are you getting tired of these yet? Hope not.) This one is from the second half of the book, and I hope it touches some of you. ❤

Promises
By Marcia Meara

Up we climb again, My Love
On yet another autumn day,
Our trail meandering, higher, higher,
Amidst October’s blazing glory.
The pines are dressed in mossy green,
And glowing maples shed flaming leaves,
Keeping us brilliant company
Under the blue silk sky.

Remember our first time
Climbing this trail?
My God, we were young, and
Filled with each other!
You held my hand, and urged me on.
Wait until we’re there, you said,
Just wait! You’ll see it’s worth the climb.
And it was, My Love.
Oh, it was!

We stood at the top,
Locked in warm embrace,
Our hair, whipped by the wind,
Our hearts triumphant.
Gazing across the rolling hills,
Your radiant face was lit with pride,
As though you had created
All this wonder
Just for me—a wedding gift!
A thing of splendor our hearts shared,
Over and over, every autumn.
Our place. Ours alone,
As though no other lovers
Ever climbed this way.

Years and years ago, it was,
That first ecstatic, heavenward climb.
Yet here we are once more, My Own,
Returning to this ancient spot.
Proving some things do prevail—
Deepest faith, and promises
Sworn in love
Abide,
Just as the land before us does,
Rolling on into eternity.

Take me back, you begged,
Back to our mountain.
I will, My Love, I swear it.
I will.
And here we are.
I’ll keep my promise. No tears today.
But oh, for another smile, another kiss!
Another chance to see your face,
To touch your cheek, to hold your hand.
Gone by so fast, like wind-blown leaves,
All our precious hours and minutes!
But didn’t we use them well, My Love?
Oh, yes! We used them well!

My heart in pieces, I let you go,
And watch as you drift away,
A swirl of grey against the blue.
Your soul soaring, riding the wind,
Then settling lower over the valley,
As you become one
With our hills.
And someday, My Love, my only love,
You’ll feel my soul come drifting down,
To rest with yours once more,
Part of the earth in this sacred place,
You and I, together.
Forever.

Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Tales of Life and Love

My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies: 

Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX

Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q

SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb

Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt

 

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – The PickUp

I’m loving the excuse of National Poetry Month to share some of my poems with you for several reasons. One is because I had some minor surgery last week, and that on top of a bad cold has left me feeling a bit too dragged out to do any serious braining. 😀 Posting poems means I don’t have to stay vertical very long, which works for me right now, so here is another for today. This is where I should say “And now for something completely different,” because it is. Hope you enjoy this gal. Her approach is far removed from that of our last damsel, and maybe she’ll make you smile. Or not. 😉

The Pick Up
By Marcia Meara

Standing near the shop,
I watch.
People rush in and out,
Jostling, hurrying.
Carrying steaming cups
To offices nearby.

I wait for the right one.
Finally! He exits and
Heads toward me.
My heart stutters
With pleasure
As I admire him.
He’s tall, wide-shouldered,
Very blonde.
A Viking in Armani.
Yes, I think. Oh, yes.
He’s just as perfect as
He looked yesterday. Continue reading

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – #CampfireGhosts

Another one from the Mac at Ten section of my little book, and perhaps a bit more fun than love gone wrong. Hope you enjoy it!

Campfire Ghosts
By Marcia Meara

Dark clouds
Hide the silver light
From his wide-eyed gaze.
Night reigns
In blackest glory,
Held at bay only
By the orange firelight.
The trees are gone,
Lost in gloom.
Everywhere,
A wall of black,
Except within
The fire’s warm
Circle. Continue reading

#IndianSummer – From #SummerMagic by @MarciaMeara #Poetry

fall-desktop-images-screen

In anticipation of my normal weekly schedule resumption (Sunday, I suspect), I thought I’d share an autumn/Indian summer themed poem. Might be the last chance before all our thoughts turn toward Christmas and wintery themes. This is one from my book, Summer Magic, and I hope I managed to capture some imagery you enjoy.

Indian Summer by Marcia Meara

He sees her standing
Below the falls,
Carefully balanced
On the slippery rocks,
And laughing
In the hazy October sun.

Only yesterday
The ice-rimmed pool
Mirrored angry gray clouds,
And a wind out of the north
Chilled his bones.
Today, a warm yellow sun
Has eaten the frost,
And resurrected the ghost
Of a summer already laid to rest.

She’s wearing shorts,
As if she knew
There would be a reprieve
And dressed accordingly.
Dampened hems, and a
Misty sheen on
Her long, slim legs
Bear testament to
The wind-blown spray.
Her loosened hair is a
Sable cloud swirling
Around her face,
Smelling faintly
Of August nights
And tupelo honey.

She turns toward him,
Radiant and joyful,
Filled with a wonder
Most have long lost.
Her smile invites him
To let go of autumn
To share the sunshine,
To be reborn in this moment.

Surprised, his mouth
Curves in response, and
His soul cries,
Yes, oh yes!
Desperation gives voice
To need long ignored.
Yes, he thinks again,
Walking toward her.

I want the sunlight,
The warmth, the wonder.
Show me, teach me.

He takes her hand, and
Lets the sunlight
Flood his heart,
Thawing the frost within,
Setting him free.

smallersm

#ExcerptWeek – Marcia Meara – @marciameara #SummerMagic

 

smallersm

Thought maybe I’d sneak in a wee excerpt of my own tonight. A fun poem from Summer Magic, just to make you smile. This little book is divided into two parts, the first being a series of poems based on MacKenzie Cole’s summers spent camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains with his dad. Mac is the handsome hero in my first book, Wake-Robin Ridge, and I really enjoyed creating some poetry to bring his childhood to life. Hope you like this one.

~~~

AMBUSH

Silent, sleek, deadly,
The predator climbs high, high,
And stretches out full length
On the smooth, sturdy limb,
Well hidden within heavy green foliage.
The wait begins.

Panting slightly as the sun climbs
And dappled light pierces the shade,
Heat rises, but keen eyes miss nothing
And sharp ears catch the first soft footfalls
Of unsuspecting prey, moving quietly
Down a curve of narrow trail.

Patience is everything.
Lie still, still, still!
No slight movement to cause alarm.
Hunger growing, mouth watering at
The smell of food coming ever closer.
Body tenses, ready to leap.

Humans are slow, pitiful creatures.
Lacking panther senses to warn them
Of danger lying overhead.
Teeth bared, growls erupting,
Body drops downward,
Ready for the kill.

With a shout, the man falls,
Hand over his heart.
You got me, you little panther, you!
Don’t eat my fingers!
Don’t eat my toes!
I brought you peanut butter and jelly.

Gotcha good, didn’t I, Dad?
I was patient, like you taught me.
Grabbing a sandwich, he dances away,
Calling over his shoulder,
Race you to the pond now!
After lunch, I want to be a fish.

~~~

 Summer Magic is now available on Kindle for just $.99 – Download HERE