Historical and Literary Fiction / Essays / Poetry / Reviews /Book Cover and Interior Illustrations / Pet Portraits and Other Commissioned Artwork … "Prose may be the lowest order of the rhythmic composition, but we know it is capable of such purity, sweetness, strength, elasticity, as entitle it to a place as a sister art with poetry." Thomas Hall Caine (1853 -1931) from his firsthand "Reflections of Dante Gabriel Rossetti"
I’m reposting this from a couple of years ago. Hope there are a few who haven’t seen it before. For those who have, hope it still retains some freshness for you.
To all …
Blessings for Easter, Passover and the miracle of spring!
I originally posted this poem last June. It was inspired by a post from Laurel’s Reflections (there is more about that below, with a link to her original post), who I am thinking about today.
Copyright 2012 by DM Denton
I am long gone
from that small coppice
where one man’s purpose
was all I had.
His saw, his scythe
cut through the clutter
to shed some light where
the ground was soft.
Fires were set
to burn away brash
and warm us at last
on such cold days.
We’d stop for lunch
and speak of nothing
except the birdsong
leaving winter.
He loved my hair
and constant silence
and woman’s promise
to stay for hope.
My hands, my heart
wanted to be his
working with nature’s
way of growing.
Clearing the way
for sunshine and rain
growing love not blame
from what was past.
Bluebells, bluebells
in sight and fragrance
I have come back since
just as he thought
I would.
Without darkness, Nothing comes to birth, As without light, Nothing flowers. May Sarton (American poet, novelist, and memoirist, 1912 – 1995)
I must acknowledge Laurel’s Reflections as the inspiration for this painting and poem, specifically her post of May 15, 2012, Bluebells and Other Delightswhere she shared some photographs taken on a family day out to Emmett’s Garden in Kent, UK. This post is dedicated to Laurel with wishes for her continued moving out of a tragic darkness into a flowering life.
Laurel has since moved back to South Africa where she and her lovely family are thankfully thriving.
This time around, I will add this wonderful YouTube clip I found: ‘Sea of Bluebells – Jenkinstown, Kilkenny early May 2013’. When I lived in England -in Wroxton, Oxfordshire – there was a coppice on the Abbey grounds (which I helped to clean up to bring in more light), and besides the blur of purple-blue, I recall the subtle but permeating hyacinth-scent …
I am long gone
from that small coppice
where one man’s purpose
was all I had.
His saw, his scythe
cut through the clutter
to shed some light where
the ground was soft.
Fires were set
to burn away brash
and warm us at last
on such cold days.
We’d stop for lunch
and speak of nothing
except the birdsong
leaving winter.
He loved my hair
and constant silence
and woman’s promise
to stay for hope.
My hands, my heart
wanted to be his
working with nature’s
way of growing.
Clearing the way
for sunshine and rain
growing love not blame
from what was past.
Bluebells, bluebells
in sight and fragrance
I have come back since
just as he thought
I would.
Without darkness, Nothing comes to birth, As without light, Nothing flowers. May Sarton (American poet, novelist, and memoirist, 1912 – 1995)
I must acknowledge Laurel’s Reflections as the inspiration for this painting and poem, specifically her post of May 15, 2012, Bluebells and Other Delights where she shared some photographs taken on a family day out to Emmett’s Garden in Kent, UK. This post is dedicated to Laurel with wishes for her continued moving out of a tragic darkness into a flowering life.
A rising
©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.
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