Poets & Writers INK, Summer 2019
Editor's Note: Appreciation to members of Poets & Writers INK for submitting these 2019 writings.
The Conversation
What is so appealing, so mesmerizing, so calming about the sound water makes reaching solid objects? We sat in the dawning light of daybreak at Tibbett’s Point, windows rolled down in the stillness to hear – no -- to absorb the original inspiration for music. Calm spread through us and made it difficult – no --irrelevant that we should return to the motion of driving back into the village. As we reluctantly started back, nearby fields were overlaid with a gossamer cloth of
Fog. We used to call it “toolie” fog. I was told it’s a corruption of the French “tuilleries”.
I overheard conversation between Sky and Moisture:
“Please come home. I can make a place for your comfy pillows. Remember what a glorious perspective you had from up here. You can decide how to express yourself, not be limited to earthly descriptors. Down there, you are fog. Up here, you still have choices; River, rain, snow, sleet, storm cloud, fluffy cumulus, and yes, fog. You can be a shower for geese; a deluge for a parched and thirsty plain, a cloak of white for a weary landscape.
Come. Chariot Sun is rising to carry you home.”
The answer was inaudible as our own horse-powered chariot carried us home, soothing restorative music of waters lapping at River shores to our north, caressing our souls.
Linda Rowe 12/16/18
At The Sun’s Command
7:24 approached. Time to steal down to ocean’s edge to watch dusk turn to dawn into daybreak. Sandy path rose to meet blushing sky. At its crest, quicksilver roiled and rolled in crescendos of crashing waves, resplendent in a seafoam green without parallel. Power spent itself on tiny powerless grains of sand; then withdrew to regroup and strike again.
In the distance shafts of lemon light backlighted storm clouds spiraling upward at a rising sun’s command. A fleeting explosion of cobalt, magenta, salmon, and shell pink flares struck wispy clouds before their changes into puffy white day dresses.
7:32 – show’s over. All that energy expended for a few moments of fleeting pleasure. Cannot wait to embrace the next 1,432 minutes!
Linda Rowe, 1/8/19
Two Shores Apart, by Mark Pierce
Two shores apart and the River holding
Always moving
Never absent
A distance
A separation
The River
Two shores apart and the River holding
A bond
A tether
A sharing
The River
Two shores apart and the River holding
A common touch
A conversation
A keeping always
The River
Two shores apart and the River holding
Yet, when light favors
Reflections gather upside down across the water
From shore to shore
And mingle a moment in the flow
By Mark L. Pierce, 2013
Taking It All In
On Mom’s summer deck I stand
Watching changes in people, water, air and land
Out of nowhere a gust of wind whips my hair
and blows leaves under the stairs
Dark grey clouds roll across the sky
Where moments earlier the Sun was bright and high
There’s a man motioning to swimmers
Hurry! Storm’s comin’ in!
Now!!
I hear the large raindrops on the roofs made of tin
Again he shouts, “Shut the windows on the house and car!
It’s not down the River very far!
People scurry up from the River docks
Digging frantically for keys to get doors unlocked
With the storm upon us, the sky is now black, grey – and gold
I hear shouts of excitement from folks young and old
A mom tells her children to stuff items in a beach bag
While yelling up to Dad, “Remember to take down the flag!”
(which is now snapping wildly in the wind
To leave it rip would almost be a sin.)
“Don’t forget to lower the umbrella on the patio!”
and “Someone please find the weather on the radio!”
I see the rough water beating the shore
Till about a foot is there no more
I hear the children say, “Look at the waves.
Boy are those boaters brave!”
I just had to grin
standing there taking it all in.
A grandma wobbles while walking on uneven ground
coming in from taking her laundry down
The Pa Pa, who was mowing, mutters
while locking down the banging shutters
A crying baby somewhere is frightened
by all the thunder and lightning
Bugs and birds fly by
Finally I too have to go inside.
I see, feel, hear everything and everyone
Working together to get things done.
Short time later, all is calm, wind has already dried the ground
Everyone comes back out to watch the sun go down
Families of ducks float by on their way to their homes
which makes even teenagers put down their phones
The River is now moving very slow
Small bonfires are all aglow
Chairs facing the River’s edge
Are full of little sleepy heads
Who are carefully taken in and put in their beds.
Parents now can get a little gossip in
along with some bourbon and gin
Good times are too quickly passing by
Before the snowbirds have to fly
Taking it all in,
I shut my eyes and grin
By Carol Wilkins, 2019
About Poets & Writers INK
Poets & writers INK was established in 1999 to provide a venue for the fine art of writing through original works, literary feedback, writing exercises, guest speakers, book signings, production of anthologies. Membership is free and they meet in Cape Vincent see their facebook page.