|
|
Post by Laura Stone on Dec 25, 2007 21:52:26 GMT -5
The Colors of Christmas
We drove through Pickens,
South Carolina, following
the road up and over
Caesar’s Head towards
Connestee Falls.
The elevation found a display
of autumn leave leftovers
and barren branches
hung on mountain trees.
The road, grey-misted
and lonely in an afternoon fog,
fell to a valley of green,
quite in contrast
to the December browns.
When we arrived,
Mother was hanging
icicle lights on the house;
it felt like home.
Even the rain
belonged to the day
and the cold outside
found a welcoming fire
inside where the children
and I snuggled
next to the Christmas tree
adorned with my favorite
childhood ornaments,
each special memory
remembered
by those represented.
As dusk seeped her color
across a western sky,
darkness twinkled
diamonds
into a clearing night
that brought a borealis
of pink, peach, and ice blue;
as my children
pressed their noses
to frosted glass
making Santa and reindeer
finger paintings,
I caught the moment
before it drifted away,
tucking it deep inside
next to last years
Christmas colors.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ron Wallace (Scotshawk) on Dec 26, 2007 13:15:36 GMT -5
Really like the idea you have here, but I think you need some more of those details that you start with so well, might require some longer lines. Regardless it's nicely done and you know to ignore my trampling of voice when it occurs. Ron
We drove through Pickens,
South Carolina, following
the road up and over
Caesar’s Head towards
Connestee Falls.
The elevation found a display
of autumn leave leftovers
and barren branches
hung on mountain trees.
The road, grey-misted
and lonely in an afternoon fog,
fell to a valley of green,
quite in contrasting
to the with December browns.
When we arrived,
Mother was hanging
icicle lights on the house;
it felt like home.
Even the rain
belonged to the day
and the cold outside
found a welcoming fire
inside where the children
and I snuggled
next to the Christmas tree
adorned with my favorite
childhood ornaments,
each holding a special memory
remembered
by those represented.
As dusk seeped her color
across a western sky,
darkness twinkled
diamonds
into a clearing night
that brought a borealis
of pink, peach, and ice blue;
as and my children
pressed their noses
to frosted glass
making Santa and reindeer
finger paintings,
I caught the moment
before it drifted away,
tucking it deep inside
next to {next to with last year's is confusing}
last years {I think the line break helps the line flow.}
Christmas colors.
|
|
Ken_Nye
EP 500 Posts Plus
EP Word Master and Published Member
Posts: 646
|
Post by Ken_Nye on Dec 26, 2007 20:23:03 GMT -5
This is lovely, Laura. I agree with Ron that the beginning seems richer in images, but the entire poem still carries the aura of memory and family. You know, I just reread the poem and I think I'm changing my mind about the diminution of images. The poem is balanced; there is no diminution of images. But I thik you should do more witih the borealis.
Ken
|
|
Vasile Baghiu
EP Gold 1000 Posts Plus
EP Word Master
poetry is rather a matter of life than art
Posts: 1,385
|
Post by Vasile Baghiu on Dec 27, 2007 5:57:20 GMT -5
Lovely these colors, Laura! Enjoyed the read. Thanks!
Vasile
|
|
|
|
Post by Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47 on Dec 27, 2007 9:33:54 GMT -5
You paint a nice warm picture of family and memories. I like Ron's edits, and I would add an apostrophe to "last year(')s Christmas colors."
I like what you did with the rain and cold....including them in the day....bringing the outside in and warming the elements.
|
|
|
|
Post by MichaelFirewalker on Dec 27, 2007 18:00:19 GMT -5
this piece has your warmth and sweetness from first line to last----it turned my old heart upside down----it's families like yours that help us remember who we are, and what this country is really all about----a lovely and sobering poem, Laura----no nits...
michael
|
|
|
|
Post by Laura Stone on Dec 27, 2007 19:50:36 GMT -5
You all are very kind. There is nothing like being in the mountains; even the air smells different. We woke to a Dec. 26th snow in the middle of the night Christmas night that had me getting my girls out of bed at 4:30 am to see it in all its stillness, (they had never seen snow in there tender years) and were out in their pajamas a few hours later trying to throw snow balls at me! It was a delight. I can't tell you how beautiful it was to see that and realize how the world stopped in a winter's reverie for those still moments shared with my girls in the middle of the night! Thank you to all for comments... I have limited internet connection with a bad signal but will be heading home tomorrow where I will revisit all your suggestions. I hope you all had a wonderful and cherished Christmas.... love to all, Laura
|
|
