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Archive for the tag “Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love”

Star-Gazing by Marcia Meara

perseids

The Perseids . . . 
Lying back under 
The ink-blotted sky,
He tries out the words.
They tickle his tongue.
The Per-see-ids. Those
Pinpoints of brightness
And streaks of fire,
Lighting the night
In a spectacle
Older than he can 
Possibly know.

Look Dad, he cries,
Look how many!
I see a hundred,
Maybe a thousand!
I see them, too,
Dad says,
And together, they laugh, 
Delighted.
Joy shared, 
And excitement 
Doubled.

Come see the meteors,
Dad said, as he
Shook him awake
Just before dawn.
He crawled from the tent,
Rubbing his eyes, 
Then staring in wonder.
With the sky still a midnight black,
And bright stars wheeling overhead, 
The fireworks came.
Racing toward Earth,
One after another,
The Perseids. 
The miracle of hot August nights.
A late-summer light show
That electrified his soul.
His young heart transfixed
By the sight of the universe,
Lit with streamers
Of flame.

A meteor shower,
Dad tells him again,
But he knows nothing
So beautiful has a name
So ordinary.
Stars, he thinks, pulled loose
From the fabric of the sky,
And flung toward earth, 
Trailing silver and gold,
And bringing pieces of Heaven
To those watching below.

He holds up his hands,
Cupped reverently, 
To catch one of his own.
To be blessed by 
This summer magic.
He holds his breath, waiting
For the illumination
Of his soul to begin.
Falling stars,
Falling from the
Summer sky,
For him.

-Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Lovely Memorial Day/Summer Magic Post

picnic

Anna Celeste Burke’s Memorial Day post includes some lovely words about my chapbook, Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love. Her post is just a beautiful tribute to summer, all the way around. Hope you’ll check it out.

Summer Magic Beckons! Happy Memorial Day!

Poem of the Day: Attitude Really IS Everything

rose

Still deleting emails. I’ve deleted over 18,000 by hand since 8:00am. I had to stop for a while, and get my head straight. Thought this might be a good reminder to keep a positive attitude.

Attitude Really IS Everything

No!
Yes.
You can’t!
I can.
Why?
Why not?
It’s all wrong!
It’s all right.
You shouldn’t!
I should.
You won’t!
I will.
It could be bad!
It could be good.
It’s too late!
There’s time.
You’re too old!
I’m still here.
You did it!
I did.

   – Marcia Meara

Summer Magic

Poem of the Day: The Rope Swing

Blue-Ridge-Mountain-Club-Hole

One more from the Mac at Ten section of Summer Magic. Hope you can feel  all the exuberance of a young boy spending the afternoon at a mountain swimming hole.

The Rope Swing

Sailing up, up into
Blue summer sky,
Hot rope rough against his hands,
He shouts with joy, and lets go.
For a crystal moment,
He hangs suspended,
Frozen in time
Like a fly in amber.
All awkward angles–
Shoulder blades and
Elbows, and
Knobby knees,
Painted against the sky,
Heart filled with fierce joy.

Dropping, down, down
Into clear green water
Cold on his skin,
He sinks to the silty bottom
And sits suspended
In an alien world,
Watching  the silvered flashes
Of tiny fish darting to and fro,
Startled by his sudden appearance.
I am a fish, too, he thinks,
And holds his breath
As long as he can.

Finally, he rockets up
Through a stream of
Tickling bubbles,
Breaking the
Surface of the water
With a loud whoop of
Childish exuberance.
All thoughts of becoming a fish
Forgotten as he
Scrambles out,
Shakes the water from his hair,
And, grinning, hitches up his
Baggy shorts.

He’s ready
To do it all again.
Flying through the summer air,
Dropping into the cold water
To commune with fishes
Silvered in refracted light.
Then leaping to the surface,
A boy of ten once more,
Laughing through an endless summer
Made perfect by a cool green pond,
And an old rope swing.

     – Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Poem of the Day: Summer Magic

blue-ridge-parkway-autumn-mountains-sunset-nc--boundless-dave-allen

Thinking about my sequel to Wake-Robin Ridge has me remembering how much I loved the idea of a little ten-year old boy who grew up camping in the mountains with his dad, every summer. The first part of my chapbook, Summer Magic, is called Mac At Ten, and celebrates those years of innocent childhood, as he learned to love those mountains with all his heart. Here’s one of those poems.

Summer Magic

Crawling quietly from his tent,
His dad still lost in slumber within,
He sits down alone on the granite slab,
Coltish legs drawn up to his chin,
And arms wrapped around skinny knees.
He gazes toward the pale horizon,
Watching the sleeping valley below.
With breath held in anticipation,
He waits for the magic
He knows will come.

There! A thin curve of molten red!
A far away sliver of fiery light
Breaks the horizon.
Rising slowly,
It bathes the tops of the rolling hills
In a brilliant spill of gold.
Mother-of-pearl dawn
Gives way to butter yellow
Morning light.

In front of his wide, blue eyes,
The world awakens.
Magic arrives and
Day is born,
Again.
He smiles to himself and wraps
His arms more tightly
Around his knees,
Shivering in private delight, and
Holding the beauty
Close within,
Having already learned
Some magic is
Secret.

  – Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Lending Fate A Hand

scrapbook_heart_red_4_scrapbook_frame

Lending Fate A Hand

Standing near the shop,
I watch.
People rush in and out,
Jostling, hurrying.
Carrying steaming cups
To offices nearby. 

I wait for the right one.
Finally! He exits and
Heads toward me.
My heart stutters
With pleasure
As I admire him.
He’s tall, wide-shouldered,
Very blonde.
A Viking in Armani.
Yes, I think. Oh, yes.
He’s just as perfect as
He looked yesterday.

With careful timing,
I step into his path,
And we collide.
Oh! I’m so sorry!
He stops, surprised.
Then bends to pick up my purse.
Handing it back, he smiles.
My fault, he says.
I should have been paying attention.

We stand for a moment,
Assessing each other,
Then I laugh awkwardly,
And flash him a look
He can’t mistake.
His eyes widen slightly,
His smile, as well.
And I know.
He’ll be here tomorrow,
Ordering latte, and
Looking for me.
I’ll be waiting.

     – Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Showers by Marcia Meara

rain11

Showers

Drip-drip.

Huddled and sighing
Inside the tent,
Boredom a damp presence
Keeping him company,
While Dad naps
To the sound of the rain.

Drip-drip.

Comic books scattered,
On his rumpled cot.
Superheroes as powerless
As little boys, while
The day spills water
Over all his plans.

Drip-drip.

No fishing today.
Those shimmery trout
Are safe in the stream.
No hiking alone,
That’s the rule.
What’s left to do?

Drip-drip.

Quietly, he crawls outside,
His stifled squeals
Turning to laughter
As the ice-cold water
Tickles his back.
This could be fun!

Drip-drip-drip-drip.

Rain falls harder.
He splashes wildly
Through silvery puddles,
Arms flung wide,
Laughing louder, and
Doing a rain dance all his own.

Drip-drip-drip-drip.

Awake now, Dad laughs, too,
Tossing him a bar of soap.
He grins at this new idea.
A rain shower? 
Why not, says Dad. May as well,
Once your rain dance is done, that is. 

Drip-drip-drop.

   – Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Thank You!!

My heartfelt thanks to everyone who took advantage of the free promotion for Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love. Sure hope you enjoy it! 

Moccasins

One more for the night, also from Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love. This is from the Mac At Ten collection. Hope you enjoy it.

Moccasins

Sneakers on,
Laces tight,
Crunching noisily
Along the path,
And wishing…
Wishing for
The silent tread
Of the Cherokee
Who walked these hills
Before him. 

Sighing,
He flings himself
Down on the rock,
And stares at the
Campfire.
I could sneak up on deer,
He tells his dad,
If I had moccasins.
I could walk
Quiet, quiet,
Down each trail.
Now I clomp,
Clomp, clomp!
They know I’m coming.
I’ll never see them
Before they
See me. 

Dad smiles.
Here, son.
Your mom said
To give you this. 

He takes the package,
Curiousity rising,
Even as he tears the paper.
What’s in here, dad?
What did she send? 

A flash of brown,
Soft In his hands.
He breathes in
The warm smell of
Leather,
And laughs with joy!
Moccasins!
How did she know, Dad?
Oh, look how soft they are!
I will be silent now,
Quiet as a mouse.
How did she know
I wanted these
So much? 

His dad smiles.
Moms are like that, Mac.
Moms always know what
Their children want most.
And Moms always want
Their children to have their
Heart’s desire. 

He watches his son
Tearing off his sneakers,
Sliding narrow feet
Into soft, brown leather,
Face aglow with delight,
Current dreams having
All come true.
And he wishes his son’s
Happiness would always be
As easy to come by as
A new pair of
Moccasins.

– Marcia Meara –

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