One duotone memory - a scenic backdrop in oils green paint splashes on a sunburnt canvas hard to imagine it was such - only last summer our last summer - two ants in a jam-packed London square picnic chairs stamping out ownership of shade those few jagged shards that cool at the boundary edge but even there you perspired in deep oily furrows and the lilac scent of Buddleia fatigued anxious butterflies Still the paint of many summers smells fresh in my veins even as the year advances like armies towards inexorable victory to Remembrance and field poppies long gone skylarks and cracked earth where spiders ran from our dry footsteps now I step ankle deep in amber under uncertain clouds
Making some memories and metaphors with Björn at dVerse
22 thoughts on “Summer in oils”
such precious memories interwoven with your sadness and longing
Summer seems especially so
the warmth of the sun kindles those feelings
A fine last line. There is still light in amber leaves.
Thank you Tish – A get set for change illumination methinks
Love how you’ve worked in the metaphor of painting – the details in your imagery exquisite.
And I love how you as reader have perceived more than the writer in oils!
Nice description of ownership: “picnic chairs stamping out ownership of shade”
A touch of personification and metaphor
Love how your summer memories are meshed with paint oils and lilic scents. As we approach Remembrance day and autumn coolness, we can only sigh under uncertain clouds.
So many memories so much to recall
Ankle deep in uncertain clouds…memories of the past can certainly fog the future. Keep walking forward till the light shines through.
Sensitively observed Mary – many thanks
The way you use the colors itself as the metaphor of memories… the inclusion of scent also works the memories… and then you tie it up with those poppies for those darker thoughts.
More of a challenge than it seemed Björn so thank you for that – managed this very scattered brushwork of metaphor
It must have been a challenge, it is hard to weave so many sensory experiences seamlessly into one poem, but this piece just lets the reader breathe and watch and even hear footsteps and skylarks and the scuttle of spiders. You have drawn us generously into your grief of loss, joy of memory, and even the stillness of uncertainty, the next step suspended, “ankle deep in amber.” You have blessed me today.
Thank you for sharing your words and thoughts Lona – especially ‘just lets the reader breathe’ – an unhurried piece it is meant to be
I’m standing in the gallery, admiring the colors and movement of your memories.
Enjoyed your comment Lynn – thank you!
Also, Laura, I love the painting. All of the colors are explicated in the poem, except that small focal splash of red, which draws our view, like the poppies, to the grief and memory, and really the universe of love (love does hurt, otherwise it is unworthy of the title), that is the center of your poem. Thank you for sharing these sacred memories with us so beautifully, and with such generous care.
Wrote the poem first and found a match with this piece of photoart I did a couple of years ago – I liked your observations – thank you
It matches the poem beautifully
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