—Painting by William Mason Brown
—A Summer Fiesta of Poetry
to Celebrate the Solstice
by Sarah Das Gupta, Cambridge, UK
—Public Domain Art
SUMMER DALLIANCE
Summer, season of love.
walking in the fields of paradise,
moonlit evenings, sound of distant waves,
voices from the sea of mythic lost lovers,
red wine and the song of the South.
Night scent, drifting from the garden.
Roses, exquisite, yet mercurial.
Red petals of over-powering desire,
winter thorns of rejection and loss.
In the fields the harvest is ready,
the stalks intertwined with poppies,
red hearts, awaiting execution,
death, an ancient sacrifice for the golden corn.
Lovers sit on green banks by the willow,
leaves, like strands of green hair,
drown in the river’s fast current.
Now the summer solstice,
mid-summer of frolic and magic.
Cattle are blest, as the wheel rolls downhill,
to echo the sun’s great daily journey.
from that pale light beneath the curtains,
to the setting in the west
beyond the Garden of the Hesperides
where the spirits of twilight
guard the golden apples.
Summer, season of love.
walking in the fields of paradise,
moonlit evenings, sound of distant waves,
voices from the sea of mythic lost lovers,
red wine and the song of the South.
Night scent, drifting from the garden.
Roses, exquisite, yet mercurial.
Red petals of over-powering desire,
winter thorns of rejection and loss.
In the fields the harvest is ready,
the stalks intertwined with poppies,
red hearts, awaiting execution,
death, an ancient sacrifice for the golden corn.
Lovers sit on green banks by the willow,
leaves, like strands of green hair,
drown in the river’s fast current.
Now the summer solstice,
mid-summer of frolic and magic.
Cattle are blest, as the wheel rolls downhill,
to echo the sun’s great daily journey.
from that pale light beneath the curtains,
to the setting in the west
beyond the Garden of the Hesperides
where the spirits of twilight
guard the golden apples.
Milkmaids in the Fields
—Painting by Julien Dupré
—Painting by Julien Dupré
SAFELY GATHERED IN
Plates of newly baked cottage loaves,
wooden platters of ripe apples
green, brushed, touched with red,
round, juicy, tempting
as that fruit in Eden.
Butter, freshly churned,
a creamy, soft confection.
Round, lunar satellites of cheese
mimicking the full Harvest Moon,
shining golden in the midsummer sky.
Laid out on trestle tables,
flagons of foaming beer,
eagerly poured into frothing tankards.
Whole well-cured hams
with coats of yellow bread crumbs
await the silver carving knives
gleaming in the bright moonlight.
Harvest cakes drip
with white icing sugar,
amid bunches of golden-eared corn
decorating the harvest table.
Trout, fresh from the mill stream,
Lie open-mouthed and bleary-eyed
at the munificence before them.
Milk-maids in sprigged muslin dresses
gather in a colourful crowd,
surveying the village lads
in smart smocks and breeches.
A fiddler is tuning up,
feet begin tapping to the old songs.
Shyly, couples get in line,
ancient melodies accompany
the youthful dancers.
Moonlight floods over the empty fields,
the shadows lengthen among the trees.
The corn lies safe in wooden barns,
music drifts out over the meadows.
The old rhythm of harvest celebration
throbs through the mothy darkness.
—Painting by Arthur Rackham
PUCK, BY ANY OTHER NAME…
(Voice from A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
I answer to many names
Puck, Hobgoblin, Robin Goodfellow,
even foul fiend when Mistress
is truly vexed
by my mischievous tricks.
In the cool dairy, the milk turns sour;
hiding in the shadows,
I bewitch the butter churns.
At twilight, in the mothy gloom,
I pick fennel, parsley, thyme and
scatter the withering leaves,
confusing the kitchen scullion.
At harvest in the summer sun,
I creep into maidens’ bonnets
or in dusty barns where motes
dance in rays of light,
I steal grain as the winnowers work.
In the mill stream I tangle
the fishing lines.
The rose-spotted trout escape
to cool green shallows.
I sit on the horse’s back
as he ploughs, turning the dark soil
into earthy waves.
I pull his ears so he tosses his head;
the ploughman loses his footing.
In midwinter, I polish the ice in the farmyard
as Mistress carries branches of red-berried holly
and dark-brooding ivy to bedeck the hall.
I fill lovers’ ears with tales of deceit
before sleeping in the breathy warmth
of the murmuring sheep fold.
Sea Maidens
—Painting by Paul Chabas
—Painting by Paul Chabas
SUMMERTIME
Lying in the shade of the old limes,
feeling tiny pinpricks of sunlight,
through the leafy canopy.
Watching golden carp swim
in the cool, green depths of a garden pool.
Feel warm sand in between the toes,
as the waves break
into frothy lizards’ tongues
licking up the pebbly beach.
Swimming slowly in the calm,
intense blueness of a Pacific lagoon,
water slips between the fingers
languidly, lazily.
Deckchairs on the shingle,
the tide slowly ebbing,
watching the sun setting
in a last explosion of red and violet,
while dusk crawls furtively seawards.
Sunday morning,
cocooned in fluffy blankets,
an early coffee, wedges of sunlight
scattered over bedclothes.
Stretched out on the lawn
in summer’s luxuriance,
a glass of red wine
holds the sunlight captive.
Warm, mothy darkness,
the scent of roses drifts
through the night garden.
Run through dew-soaked grass,
as the morning mist rises.
Freckles of pollen cling to
wet sandals.
Lounging on cushions,
lost in reading,
raindrops spatter the window,
a spotted view of the garden.
Just hanging out, time crawling,
an inner immunity to a world still turning.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
May the light illuminate your hearts and shine in your life every day of the year. May everlasting peace be yours and upon our Earth.
―Eileen Anglin
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Sarah Das Gupta for helping us celebrate yesterday’s turn of the seasons with her fine poetry!
A reminder that
Jeanine Stevens & Marc Petrie
will read at Sac. Poetry Alliance
in Sacramento today, 4pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Jeanine Stevens & Marc Petrie
will read at Sac. Poetry Alliance
in Sacramento today, 4pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
