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Firefly jars +

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Old 06-01-2018, 07:19 AM   #1
Join Date: Jul 2015
Location: Guiseley,West Yorkshire,England
Posts: 165
Default Firefly jars +

Firefly jars

The days fading heat melts the air.

into the amber wash of twilight fall

and with a brush like breeze so fair.

then thinly paints the cottage wall,

as across the bay escapes a song,

almost lost upon the water stilled,

to weave amongst shadows long,

as all with summer's scent is filled.

While above, the darkening sweep,

can now reveal those early stars,

glittering facets dispensing sleep

and infant dreams of firefly jars.


The colour of limes, cooling in shade,

appears, seemingly as watched,

to feather the venous cradle

of branchlets with downy leaves,

that hint of suede, and curl up or back

when buffeted by winds of late spring.

Some flashing their modesty, their underside,

while others part gently,

like a child's hair being combed by

a doting mother,

startling the sparrows and finches

about their work within,

who are rendered

briefly quiescent, until

the lunge and parry

of their beaks returns.

Beach storm

As if tethered to the above,

the sea was drawn back,

back beyond sight and sound,

until there was nothing but sand

yielding to footprints, which blurred,

and sank between blinks,

and bits of errant sea

caught in shallow dips while others

formed rivulets to hasten

after the rest.

Into this nothing the sky dropped,

smothering all with shades of steel

and iron, weeping rain such that

soon it may leave no room for the

returning tide, its fury tumbling

the spray laden air, lips glanced

by its salt spiced edge, darkening

dunes until they caked and fell.

I have seen fog congested forest

and sheets of sleet cutting

across pasture,

and found beauty,

I could not honour this place so.

Lover or friend

Would you leave tomorrow's tale

a virgin sheet,

on which no pattern of life,

by hand encrypted, will lie,

and future meet........

such that I must ask of others also, were you real?.....

or has memory jumbled truth

with wishful want, erroneous sight

and false feeling.

Your scent is freed

as I press your clothes to my face,

yet no print of a lover confused, stains them from garment

into shroud of filigree lace.

Perhaps it is I who would bring

this story to its end,

who would write a final chapter,

if so, I would know with certainty

whether the premiss past

was lover or friend.


My burden is greatest at sundown,

before evening smudges the sky

with charcoal fingers,

when Swift and Swallow, soar on

warm summer risings,

freer than silver bellied shoals that

flare their brightness as one,

in a dark that is as clay to air,

and draw my sight to lift and

fly amongst them............

and when dogs wonder about

a last walk of the day,

and mothers shout ten minute warnings to tired kids that

won't come in, but marry

the warm day's slowing,

regaling past glories and games

of endless playtimes,.............

when life's set-backs did not exist,

and the approach of night's vagaries,

heavy with intention to make sport with

troubled minds was a fear never felt.

The sweetest drink

She is delightfully lost to all,
in her small garden kitchen
as she makes dinner for a family waiting for time to catch up.
It looks like pine cone stew
she stirs, in between picking
buttercups for afters,
enjoying make-believe tea,
with those I cannot see.

Her tiny face tells the story
as lips purse and pout in
mime, telling proof of the way
grown-ups can sometimes be.
She then looks up with a start,
a smile exploding before me,
I'm offered an imaginary cup,
and my first sip made me think,
it was by far the sweetest drink.

Dead bird

Huddled kids await the moon,
hoods tilted to the ground,
there by the hopscotch rune,
all forlorn without a sound.

One grabbed a shed lent stick,
to move the sky fallen form,
with a silent funeral flick
under the threatened storm

A hole was scraped by spade
for wings that no longer soar,
stone marked in daisy shade
the grave for a bird no more.
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"Thanks for this!" says:
ger715 (06-06-2018), PamelaJune (06-15-2018), Wiix (07-05-2018)
Old 07-05-2018, 04:40 PM   #2
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Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: The "X" is silent. Pronounced "Oui".
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My Mood: Firefly jars +
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I counted 50 fireflies a minute last night.
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"Thanks for this!" says:
ger715 (07-25-2018)

air, firefly, lover, sight, sky

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