Meditation on Green
Catalpa leaves droop, giant cut-out hearts,
a child’s Valentine’s Day in July.
a child’s Valentine’s Day in July.
Vines cluster on the chain link fence, protecting
the beloved who peers out from the porch.
the beloved who peers out from the porch.
Grasses creep over the uneven sidewalk
with lamb’s quarters and poison ivy not far behind.
with lamb’s quarters and poison ivy not far behind.
The wind blows in from the backyard,
bringing with it an edge of itch.
bringing with it an edge of itch.
Milkweed and reeds choke the swamp, trapping
the turtle that lives beneath phthalo green waters.
the turtle that lives beneath phthalo green waters.
Redwing blackbirds perch on the reeds.
They fly off. They return.
They fly off. They return.
One bird sings late at night when leaves and grass
become shadows. Owls hoot from another yard.
become shadows. Owls hoot from another yard.
In the morning, the sun shines,
turning locust leaves yellow, foreshadowing fall.
turning locust leaves yellow, foreshadowing fall.
The Ocean and I
When I lived near Boston,
I would go for years without
seeing the ocean.
I would go for years without
seeing the ocean.
I knew it was there
even though, when I climbed
to the top of Mission Hill,
I could not see it.
even though, when I climbed
to the top of Mission Hill,
I could not see it.
The ocean waited
along the Blue Line,
a line I never traveled.
I gawked at the river
whenever I crossed over
into the city. I walked
down to Jamaica Pond’s
placid waters, green disk
near the end of
an emerald necklace.
along the Blue Line,
a line I never traveled.
I gawked at the river
whenever I crossed over
into the city. I walked
down to Jamaica Pond’s
placid waters, green disk
near the end of
an emerald necklace.
The ocean,
patient and steel blue,
at high tide or low tide,
bearing stones and seaweed,
was waiting for me.
patient and steel blue,
at high tide or low tide,
bearing stones and seaweed,
was waiting for me.
Marianne Szlyk is the editor of The Song Is... Her second chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, was published by Flutter Press. Her first full-length book, On the Other Side of the Window, is now available on Amazon. Feel free to stop by her magazine at http://thesongis.blogspot.com/
Fun poems to read. Thank you, Marianne. I lived for six years in Most when I went to college and never once saw the ocean. To think it was so near... Brookline, Back Bay, Mattapan Cambridge, Dorchester... I never once saw the ocean. Your poem captures that. And all the green, staring with those heart shaped catalpa leaves in July, the overgrown lushness of of a choked swamp " trapping the turtle that lives beneath phthalo green waters." - such rich language to go with the imagery. A delight to read both of these! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteYes, it was a delight to read once again your beautiful poems, Marianne.
ReplyDeleteThank you for alerting me to the re-opening of this site I've always admired.