Summer in oils

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 Comments on “Summer in oils

  1. such precious memories interwoven with your sadness and longing

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  2. Love how you’ve worked in the metaphor of painting – the details in your imagery exquisite.

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  3. 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.

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  4. Ankle deep in uncertain clouds…memories of the past can certainly fog the future. Keep walking forward till the light shines through.

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  5. 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.

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    • More of a challenge than it seemed Björn so thank you for that – managed this very scattered brushwork of metaphor

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      • 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.

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  6. I’m standing in the gallery, admiring the colors and movement of your memories.

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  7. 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.

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