Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
new-fallen snow
On this wintry day … finding the right words to describe new-fallen snow …
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newfall: words escape me
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the white ephemeral
perhaps frost
the fir boughs divided
the sculptured steel
of a flake of snow
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try again
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paper stencil
on chocolate cake
powdered sugar
sifted on the rills
of the new plowed field
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again
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sweet in my mouth
the bitter melted in morning sun
white hot on my cheek
the writing lamp
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a lamp to the left
casts no shadow
(the shadow of a pen
or a hand)
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(unless you are wrong-handed)
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chimney shadow
on a fresh-snowed roof
or trees on the eastern edge of the road
where the sun cannot warm
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the morning
dusting of ice
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try again
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Published as ‘newfall – words escape me’, the Fiddlehead 196, Summer 1998
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
dressing in black
on this wintry day …
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Rebecca
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in black
advances
down the middle
of the street
oblivious to traffic
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dark mists
and Avalon
the perfect rupture of sky
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from her fingers
black threads
spin skirt
and widow’s weeds
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black painted nails
blackened sockets of eye
her lips black also
from a feast of berries
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Copyright 2000 Jane Tims
excusing the difference
On this cold and wintry day …
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When my son went to school, we often went to theatrical presentations at the school. The young people were so talented and the presentations so well executed, I often went away with the lines of a poem running through my head.
One evening performance was particularly memorable and inspiring. It was a production of Romeo and Juliet, and in this ‘version’ Rosaline was given an on-stage role. Rosaline is the character who does not appear in Shakespeare’s play but has a background role as Romeo’s first love.
The young lady who played the part of Rosaline was memorable for her costuming and her on-stage presence. She was dressed entirely in black Goth except for her hair – bright pink. I remember her soliloquy – she begged us to look past her difference and see the person within.
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heroine
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her hair
a stroke of pink
on the brown audience
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more compelling
than the script
or the decorated stage
not surprising to see her name
on the program
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Rose
in the part of Rosaline
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in black but for the hair
even her lips
implore the audience
to pardon the difference
to understand
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if only he had lived
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she, of course, the heroic one
not Romeo
or Juliet
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not the dead
but the left-behind
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
swing in the orchard
On this cold and snowy day …
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in the orchard
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the old swing
soothes its child
its ropes fray
squeak with laughter
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if you hang around under apple trees
you understand the patchy shade
the reason the grass grows only so high
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in summer, the boy ties the swing high in the tree
and the mower moves under
brings Timothy to its knees
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spares field mice and bedstraw
makes mounds of hay to land on
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
cornrows
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cornrows
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at the first rustle
of shadow on skin
I wake beside him
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I slide from the bed
flip the latch, climb through
the window, he will
be angry
the thought delights me
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I cross to the cornfield
silken rows of ribbon
higher than my head
an army, khaki-clad
could march here
one row over
and we could all
have solitude
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I shift rows
suddenly
catch a glimpse
of tassels
chevrons
boot heels
click into the next row
ribbons quiver
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takes nine minutes
to find a cornrow
north to south
leads back to the house
I cross the yard
pause on the threshold
I hesitate
a stranger
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the cornstalks whisper
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I raise my fist
hammer on the door
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Published as: ‘cornrows’, Spring 2013, The Antigonish Review 173
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Copyright 2013 Jane Tims
a ford in the river 5-3
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houses in Le Gué d’Alleré (image from Street View)
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map showing distance travelled (map from Google Maps)
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April 18’s virtual bike ride took me through the town of Le Gué d’Alleré. A ‘gué’ is a place on a river where the water is shallow enough to allow easy passage, in other words, a ford.
The river in Le Gué d’Alleré was so shallow, it had no water at all. I know this river sometimes holds water since there is an image embedded in Street View showing the river full of water!
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river in Le Gué d’Alleré (image from Street View)
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When I was young, we often visited my grandfather’s farm in Nova Scotia. One of the places I remember well was the ford across the stream at the end of his road. The water was shallow at this spot and people from the community would bring their cars to the ford to wash them. It would not have been good for the environment. Soap suds and leaking oil and gasoline would pollute the downstream water, probably harming the aquatic life, including the fish people liked to catch.
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ford
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at the intersection
of the lane and the County Road,
a ford crossed the stream–
flat stones and riffles
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in the shade of serviceberry and maple
we watched as distant cousins
washed their cars,
all suds and Daisies
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then took clean cars
further down the road
(further down the stream),
for an hour of fishing
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Best View: an image from my memory …
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
an abandoned house
On my virtual biking trip along the Sèvre Niortaise in central France, I saw an abandoned house. Its roof had collapsed, its side buildings were reduced to ruined stone walls and its windows and doors were empty eyes …
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It reminded me of a painting of an abandoned house by Liam Rainsford (published as ‘Abandoned’ on his Blog on April 15, 2012). You can see his painting at http://liamrainsford.com/2012/04/14/abandoned-oil-painting/
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I have been writing a series of poems on the theme of abandonment and Liam’s haunting painting inspired this poem:
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abandoned house
– response to the painting ‘Abandoned’ by Liam Rainsford (April 15, 2012)
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stone ruin,
vacant, a shell
disinterested (since they went away)
in the state of the road
or comings and goings
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only the fence posts have opinions
one, a stoic, is the neighbor’s boy,
waits by the gate
one post swoons in disbelief –
roof fallen in, garden weedy,
fields overgrown
what’s a good fence for, but to keep hunger away?
keep people in?
fence wires lead off, toward the east
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walk through the front door, into open air
views unobstructed
tree tops, remote hills, expanses of sky
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ghosts are lonely here,
peering into windows, entering
the lean-to door
with a basket of eggs,
over and over
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
a dragon on a wall – biking log book Day #9
I am continuing with the third phase of my virtual bike trip through central France. For Phase 3 of my trip, I am biking in 12 days from Exireuil to Magné just west of Niort.
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Log Book: March 5, 2013
Area travelled: from ‘outskirts of Niort’ to ‘edge of Niort’
Distance: 30 minutes 3.0 km
Notes: only three more days to go on my virtual trip to Magné!
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Distance Travelled Feb 21 to Mar 5: 27.0 km (270 minutes of stationary biking)
Total Distance Travelled Jan 30 to Mar 5 : 58.8 km (595 minutes of stationary biking)
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map showing distance travelled (map from Google Earth)
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On March 5, I finally made it off the train track and entered the city of Niort. It is a neat city with lots of one-way streets, enclosed yards and lots of greenery.
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As in many cities, there were lots of interesting sights to see. I grabbed a bottle of Perrier to drink as a Perrier truck passed by…
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Perrier truck (image from Street View)
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I saw a school yard where the children seem to have hung up their artwork to dry on a line between two trees…
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school yard and art hanging on the line (image from Street View)
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I was able to visit yet another Pâtisserie… yummmmm!
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patisserie (image from Street View)
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I also saw what looked like remarkable graffiti on one fence, a rendition of a dragon…
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dragon wall (image from Street View)
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wall dragon
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he peers from under
a fall of vines
growls at the passing cars
ignore him
fueled with their own
bellyfuls
of fossil fire
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closeup of dragon wall (image from Street View)
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Best View: a charming enclosed yard in Niort
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Do you think the homeowners had the dragon painted on the wall, or was it ‘noncommissioned’?
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
winter water-scape
On our drive to Black’s Harbour this past Monday, we took the cross-country highway #785. It travels directly to the southern part of the province through the woods.
Many streams cross the roadway. All are lined in snow, but the center channel is just a sheet of ice away in most streams and rivers. In some cases, the water is moving so swiftly, the ice has been breached by the flow. The result is a carved ice-world of frozen water. At these openings in the frozen river, you can catch a glimpse of the winter water-scape: the layers of ice, the icicles and frosted caverns beneath the smooth upper layer of ice and snow.
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winter water-scape
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under the ice
the river registers
its sinew
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carves a crystal path
between layers
of frost
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transparent panes
of polished glass,
lofted by pillars of ice
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ice caverns, edged by froth
a mingling of winter breath
and river tears
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
abandoned boat
On Monday, we drove to Black’s Harbour. On the new highway, where it crosses the inland dregs of Oak Bay, the ice was broken into big sheets along the shore. There, in the icy debris, was an abandoned fishing boat, a wreck. Although I have never seen it before, it has probably been there a long time.
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Foggy Molly
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she had a sixth sense –
kicked in on a grey day
when mists lobbed across the bow
and thickened her passage
she loved flat water
and a blanket of fog
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she was nervous of a big sea,
preferred to be tied, snug
to the wharf,
to lift and settle,
to lift and settle
moved by the inhalation,
the exhalation
of the tides
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ironic – she broke up
at berth, waiting for a re-fit
smashed by a nor’easter
and cleavers of ice
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
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