#SummerMagic by (ahem) Me! #Excerpt #Review

As summer winds down, I decided to share a poem of mine about a ten-year-old boy enjoying another day camping in the mountains with his dad. This is from my book Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love, and is one of my personal favorites. Hope you enjoy it.

The Rope Swing

Sailing up, up into
Blue summer sky,
Hot rope rough against his hands,
He shouts with joy, and lets go.
For a crystal moment,
He hangs suspended,
Frozen in time
Like a fly in amber.
All awkward angles–
Shoulder blades and
Elbows, and
Knobby knees,
Painted against the sky,
Heart filled with fierce joy.

Dropping, down, down
Into clear green water
Cold on his skin,
He sinks to the silty bottom,
And sits suspended
In an alien world,
Watching the silvered flashes
Of tiny fish darting to and fro,
Startled by his sudden appearance.
I am a fish, too, he thinks,
And holds his breath
As long as he can.

Finally, he rockets up,
Through a stream of
Tickling bubbles,
Breaking the
Surface of the water,
With a loud whoop of
Childish exuberance,
All thoughts of becoming a fish
Forgotten as he
Scrambles out,
Shakes the water from his hair,
And, grinning, hitches up his
Baggy shorts.

He’s ready
To do it all again.
Flying through the summer air,
Dropping into the cold water
To commune with fishes
Silvered in refracted light,
Then leaping to the surface,
A boy of ten once more,
Laughing through an endless summer
Made perfect by a cool green pond,
And an old rope swing.
                                                         by Marcia Meara 

~~~

REVIEW

D.L. Finn

Reviewed in the United States on April 2, 2021

#GuestDayTuesday – Summer Magic by … ME!

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This could be considered cheating, I suppose, but since I had no one scheduled as a guest today, I decided to feature myself. I started writing poetry as a child of five, believe it or not, and I’ve never lost my love for it. The second book I published, right after Wake-Robin Ridge, was Summer Magic, my little “chapbook” of poetry, and I’d like to tell you a bit about it, if you’ll indulge me.

BLURB:

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love is a collection of contemporary poetry about exactly that–life and love. The first part of the book features poems about the magic a young boy discovers while camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The second part of the book has a sampling of poetry about love, life and death, autumn, and dreams coming true.

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While I truly loved writing the poems featuring my WRR hero, Mac, as a young boy enjoying his summers in my favorite place in the world–the North Carolina mountains–there are several poems in the second part of the book that really came from my heart, too. Today,  I’m going to share the longest of those, a poem that has a bit of an autobiographical nature to it. Hope you enjoy it!

ON THE RIVER

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

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MYSTERY, SUSPENSE,
AND THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

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Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

marciameara16@gmail.com
Twitter: @marciameara

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF MARCIA’S BOOKS

Marcia’s Amazon Author Page

Wake-Robin Ridge Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4

Swamp Ghosts: A Riverbend Novel
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3

The Emissary: A Riverbend Spinoff Novella
The Emissary 2: To Love Somebody 
The Emissary 3: Love Hurts

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

More Happy Fall, Y’all – Campfire Ghosts from #SummerMagic

Still trying to convince myself it’s actually October. Let’s see, shorts? Check. Air conditioning on? Check. Sun shining down on sidewalk too hot to walk barefooted on? Check. Hmmm. *Looks at calendar again.* October? Not so sure, but that’s what it says. So, here’s a poem from Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love. This is from the section entitled “Mac at Ten,” and describes one of many camping trips to the North Carolina mountains with his dad. No wonder Mac grew into a man who never wanted to live anywhere else. Enjoy. (And feel free to pass it it along.)

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.

Sparks rise up,
Twisting high
Until they disappear,
Lost in the darkness,
Only to be followed
By legions more.

Whippoorwills call,
And foxes bark,
And the night settles like
A blanket over all.

Grilled food
Is gobbled down,
Leaving behind only
The sweet scorched
Scent of burnt
Marshmallow.
He wears a smile
Dressed in melted chocolate,
And licks his sticky fingers
Clean.

The air turns cooler,
As day is forgotten,
And jewel-bright embers
Glow in heaps of ash.
He’s waited as long
As a young boy can.
Shivering, he asks,
Is it time?

A warm arm
Pulls him close,
Holding him safe,
And he asks again.
Is it time now, dad?

Yes, says his father,
His voice a deep
Familiar comfort
In the ink-dark night.
Yes, I believe it is.
Let me see,
Shall I tell you
A new one?

Will it have
Clacking bones
And eyes that glow?
Will there be cold wind
Whistling through trees,
And bats swooping,
And owls calling?

Of course, says his dad.
All of that, I’m sure,
For isn’t that what
You love the most?

Oh, yes, he sighs,
Safe and warm,
Eyes growing heavy
And sleep close by.
Tell me, dad,
Like you always do.
Tell me a story.

Buy Summer Magic HERE

 

 

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic: Poems of Life & Love – The Last Rose

A slight change of pace today, from our little boy camping in the mountains, to something a bit less jovial. Because, you know. Life can’t be all rope swings and summer smiles.  Hope you enjoy it, anyway. 😀

The Last Rose
     by Marcia Meara

Late July, and
The day drowses,
Air heavy and still.
Bees moving slowly from
Flower to flower,
In a dance weighed down by heat.
Sleepy hours spent dreaming, longing
For other places, other chances.
Anything better
Than one more day
Spent under this weight,
With movements made slow,
Like easy prey. Continue reading

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic – Mac at Ten

Another poem from Summer Magic, though I don’t have a picture that works as well for this one. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the view from the very top of Wake-Robin Ridge–or at least, the way I imagined it, since WRR only exists in my mind.  Hope you enjoy this one, though since it’s from Dad’s POV,  it is a bit more introspective than the last.

Bruises
by Marcia Meara

Pale blue eyes,
Fringed in black,
Look out at the world
With the wild, free spirit
Only a ten-year-old boy
Knows how to nurture. Continue reading

#NationalPoetryMonth – #SummerMagic: Poems of Life & Love

I’ve been told it’s National Poetry Month, and who am I to argue with a lead-in like that? In celebration, I thought I’d share one of  my poems from Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love. Since it’s been hovering around 83 to 85 degrees here for a couple of weeks, I figured a summery one was in order. Hope you enjoy it! 🙂

The Rope Swing
by Marcia Meara

Sailing up, up into
Blue summer sky,
Hot rope rough against his hands,
He shouts with joy, and lets go.
For a crystal moment,
He hangs suspended,
Frozen in time
Like a fly in amber.
All awkward angles–
Shoulderblades and
Elbows, and
Knobby knees,
Painted against the sky,
Heart filled with fierce joy. Continue reading

A Big Thank You, and a Little Poem

I just wanted to thank each of you for making this #ExcerptWeek the best one, yet. To those of you who shared your work with us, my heartfelt thanks. I loved reading every single excerpt, even when I got too swamped to comment. To those of you who shared what you read here, you are the heart and soul of what The Write Stuff is all about. I love each and every one of you, contributers and sharers alike. (And a double hug for those of you who were both!)

Thought I would share a little poem from Summer Magic, which I wrote after defying the odds and publishing my first book. Those of you who have followed me for a while will recognize it, but I hope you won’t mind reading again. If I have anything of import to give you all, it’s this little bit of life philosophy. Enjoy. (But take it to heart.)

Attitude Really Is Everything

No!
Yes.
You can’t!
I can.
Why?
Why not?
It’s all wrong!
It’s all right.
You shouldn’t!
I should.
You won’t!
I will.
It could be bad!
It could be good.
Its’ too late!
There’s still time.
You’re too old!
I’m still here.
You did it!
I did.

And with that, consider #ExcerptWeek wrapped up until next time! Hope you  all enjoyed it as much as I did.


 

#ExcerptWeek – Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love #2

 

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A longish one before bedtime. Hope some of you will enjoy it to the end. This little boy is near and dear to my heart, being the ten-year-old version of MacKenzie Cole, the main male character in Wake-Robin Ridge.

Deep Pockets

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 which 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 afterward,
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. Continue reading

#ExcerptWeek – Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

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Something different this morning. Enjoy!

Indian Summer

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.

*

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love