Evergreen Post: Snapshots from a Summer Day*

Now that summer has officially arrived–at least according to the calendar–I’m sharing an evergreen summer post from July 2015. Happy Sunday, everyone, and have a wonderful week!

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*Selected verses from Summer, a poem by Jennifer Kelland Perry, 2012
Photos ©2015 jenniferkellandperry.com 

Roma

Flashback to eight years ago this week: Beautiful Rome, the first destination of our 3-week trip to Italy and France. We hope to return to Europe within the next few years–the UK this time–and I can hardly wait.

The Colosseum was only a few minutes from our hotel. Notice the workers upon the ledge!

A little verse I wrote in Rome:

Roma

The click on terracotta tile
a welcoming staccato beat
quick-sure heels on cobblestone
we join the rhythm on the street.

Mellifluous foreign banter
fill sidewalk cafes and bars
laughter tinkling, glasses clinking
under the Italian stars.

Heady scent of sweet ambrosia
lips stained red with deep dark wine
swarthy locals’ smiling faces
lovers with their arms entwined.

Tastes and smells are all around us
food and drink beyond compare
warm night air drapes on our shoulders
sated, sleepy, not a care.

Street musicians serenade us
as we stroll our way back home
memories to last a lifetime
summer nights in downtown Rome.

***

Travellers:
What has been your best-loved destination?

Seagull Spring

Seagulls squeal a spring duet
Swim in pairs around ice and rock
Glide as swans in graceful tandem
Hush broken by caw and squawk.

Two by two with white forms glinting
All-consumed to multiply
Nests to feather whatever the weather
Tasks that cover sea and sky.

Sun sets, wind drops, fog rolls in
From the east without a sound
Just the squeal and cry of seagulls
Nature’s twilight songs abound.


I took these photos in April 2015. This year the sea ice left early, but we still have our mating seagulls on the rocks. I love to see them pair off with each other every spring.

Nature More

jenniferkellandperry.com

~ There is a Pleasure in the Pathless Woods ~

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less,
But Nature more.

~ excerpt from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
by Lord Byron

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jenniferkellandperry.com

A Valentine from Vivian

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I know you may think
that I look kind of lazy
But not every day
I’m as fresh as a daisy

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Precious few are so perfect
to wear halos above us
So we look past the faults
of who we love and who love us

Like where did this dog toy
come from, we inquire
When there are gorgeous kitty cats
here to admire?

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But I won’t dwell on that,
just an oversight, maybe
I’ll forgive and forget
and not act like a baby

And we won’t envy Jennifer
with her life that’s just ducky
‘Cause we know of a time
when she wasn’t so lucky

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So don’t be concerned
if you haven’t seen Cupid
Don’t be down on romance
because that would be stupid

Just realize your True Love
may not be that far
And besides,
you are wonderful
just as you are!

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If you still find you’re sad
and alone on this day
Take a look at our cuteness
to chase troubles away

And please, pretty please,
know we love you like crazy
Happy Valentine kisses
from me and from Maisie. ❤

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The Daily Post Prompt:
Cupid’s Arrow – Write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!

This was my first time using the new “Copy a Post” feature on WordPress for evergreen content. Originally shared in 2015 here.

Winter Afternoon

January 14, 2019

Winter afternoon
peace and quiet so serene
clear and cold and blue
– but I’m never blue with you
in our home beside the sea.

***

The Japanese tanka is a 31-syllable poem.
Tanka translates as ‘short song’ and is known for its 5-line, 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count form.

Wild Geese

Beloved poet Mary Oliver passed away on Thursday at the age of 83.  Oliver’s poems were much inspired by the link between the natural world and spirituality.

When I read her poem Wild Geese back in 2015, it stirred me to write about my feelings of belonging, or lack thereof, and of my own place in the world.

Having lived through a number of moves, changes, and upheavals, my transitions often deemed me as a newcomer who will probably always feel a little like someone on the outside, looking in.*

Yet, when I read that poem and let the words sink in, they seem to grant me the freedom to love and experience all the things that mean the most to me. I can now belong in this life I’ve created, just as everyone belongs to the bigger picture that is the universe, to bear witness to a journey filled with joy, sorrow, and exquisite beauty.*

Of course, Mary Oliver said it better than I ever could:

photo: jenniferkellandperry.com

*Excerpts from my blog post: Belonging, March 12, 2015.
Many of the comments on your own feelings of belonging were a real eye-opener for me!

What is “your place in the family of things”?

September’s Song

jenniferkellandperry.com

I wrote the following in September of 1994. It was a time of great transition for me.

I wanted to express my readiness for the next chapter, and my anticipation of what good things might come my way. When I wrote it, I had no way of knowing I would be meeting my future (and now present) husband later in that same month.

To me, these heartfelt words of my younger self are still fresh and very much alive. They have no expiry date.

September’s Song

The September sun falls warm upon my face
as I blink back a lonely tear.

But to be alone isn’t so bad.
A decade of fragile dreams, dashed,
had prepared me for this season of solitude.

Hadn’t you known it was inevitable,
poor battered heart?

The gulf I see ahead is blue, unknown,
and strangely comforting.
I knew I would face it someday.

As surely as I had faced the impossible gulf
of a love that could no longer support us,
like a ropework bridge – frayed, rotted,
stretching into a sadder tomorrow.

No, it couldn’t be trusted to help us across.
I finally accepted its condition and turned away.

The summer of change has passed,
and an autumn of new beginnings beckons.
A crisp welcome breeze blows
the last stray doubts from my mind.

I watch a dry russet leaf skitter and dance
to a uniquely different song, of a September that holds
the inviting promise of a life not ending,
but reborn.

Throwback Thursday: She Writes

Happy Thursday, everyone!

Here’s a throwback to July 2013, when I was in the thick of creating the first draft for Calmer Girls. At the time I was also blogging twice a week, but hey, when your muse is whispering in your ear to pen a poem and she won’t shut up, you pen a poem. There’s no getting out of it.

She Writes

She wakes tangled in themes
through a cobweb of dreams
with gossamer remnants
that linger and tease,
pushes back dusty curtains
and on a page blank and white
she writes.

 She deletes the clichéd
yesterday she okayed
and contemplates words
like ephemeral and moonglade
they taste like confections
with her tangerine sections
and jolts of black coffee
she writes.

She’s reminded of chores
she keeps trying to ignore
with the scatter of crumbs
that litter the floor,
shrugs her shoulders and thinks
it will be there tomorrow
she writes.

The bills wait, unpaid
And the bed’s still not made
There’s this blog post to write
and it can’t be delayed
her novel must wait
it’s a musing or rhyme that
she writes.

She reaches again
for the manuscript when
her mind can’t break free
from the plot line within
and it makes him uptight
there’s no dinner tonight
but he digests her flaws.
After all, it’s because
she writes.

***

photo by pexels

First published here.

Thanks for reading and have a great weekend!

Friday Fiction: Reunion*

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– Reunion –

He sees her
at the edge

of the crowded soiree
and knows her instantly.

It is a blow.

The first time
in thirteen years
Fate has brought them
together
years for her
he’d heard
were far from kind.

He thinks
how dramatic
change can be from
Life’s random cruelties
and how no one
can prepare.

A nervous voyeur
he peeks into her eyes
smudged windows
at the brink
of unimaginable pain.

It frightens him
makes him wish
he hadn’t heard the rumors
the images evoked
and now the proof.

Her face
the same yet injured
from the inside of her trauma
haunted eyes far too mature
for her years
aspect stamped with the hurt
she tries to hide.

And he wonders
when she finds his broken smile
how it was ever possible
that once
she swarmed his secret dreams.

She turns away.

It occurs to him
she read it in his heart
and knows
the Muse has passed.

***

*First published here.

Jennifer’s Friday Fiction

Thanks for reading!

Friday Fiction appears on random Fridays as a place to share my writing in the form of short stories, flash fiction, poetry and vignettes.