A Paris Exhibition / House at Dusk by Jan Darrow

A Paris Exhibition

I planted flowers today
in my garden.
Nymphaea
from Monet’s Water Lilies.
The blooms
circled a stream of consciousness
altered by the willows and wisteria.
I watched for hours.
Altered blues morphed
into leafy lush and rose reflections.
The blush and shadows
balanced color changing greens.
Glassy hues.
Paint moved
like the summer sun
across the sky.
Irises crowned the edge.
Curved
brush strokes
splashed light.



House at Dusk

upstairs a door is closing
voices evaporate
the heat of the day is gone
outside
spent lilacs burnish color
onto panes of glass
trees spin darkness against the sky
the garden is iridescent
white clusters
of viburnum globes shimmer
in the filtering shadows
the earth shifts
you feel it if you’re silent
and then a gust of wind roars
through the trees
clouds move in but not before the stars
begin to move across the sky
they leave their pallor sails to the wind
while the crisp white moon
is forever moored to the tides

Jan Darrow is a Midwest poet that loves the haunting allure of abandoned spaces. She has been published online/print and has been nominated for Sundress Publications Best of the Net. Her book “Autumn Poetry: A Collection for the Season,” (available on Amazon) was recently recommended by Bookstr.

van Gogh by Jan Darrow

This morning

I hang wheat fields
across the kitchen sky -
paper bright as stars.

In the afternoon
paint
slips through
my fingers
like gold.

Under a whisper of sun
contrasting images
become large
as flowers in a vase -
citrine faces adorned.

Tonight the moon cascades
across a starlit sky
filled with boats beneath
the dark hue
lamp lit
to the naked eye.

Jan Darrow is a Midwest poet that loves the haunting allure of abandoned spaces. She has been published online/print and has been nominated for Sundress Publications Best of the Net. Her book “Autumn Poetry: A Collection for the Season,” (available on Amazon) was recently recommended by Bookstr.

Like Birds by Jan Darrow

we opened our mouths
this morning
to catch snowflakes
and melted them one by one
sugar sky
cloud cane
count them
let them grow into an ocean
of past
your past
or mine
full of lost loves
drifting
into the open sea

Jan Darrow is a Michigan native who connected to the natural world at an early age.  Her collections of poetry and flash fiction are available on Amazon. You can find more of her work at Jan Darrow / Poetry and Fiction  

A Midwest Winter Evening by Jan Darrow

The snow sits
like a stubborn child
unresolved
brooding
challenging
the most seasoned.
Recent bones
evaporate under the sun.
I’ve seen animals
in shaggy coats
icy whiskers
dig deep for dinner.
Cold permeates the color blue
in the evenings.
Wind whispers through
the shadowed pines.
Outside my window sleep
spreads across the open meadows
while the horses and sheep
warm the barn.

Having grown up in the rural Midwest, Jan Darrow connected to the natural world at an early age.  She has two collections of poetry and a collection of flash fiction available on Amazon.

Apples by Jan Darrow

the trees have taken

to the bees

with apple stem

and bribery

they lift their limbs

and weave new green

into the sky

the changing season pools

the ageless eye

beneath the sun

in canopies

the trees float fragrant

petal hems

where velvet color

swells of fruit

begin

Having grown up in the rural Midwest, Jan Darrow connected to the natural world at an early age.  She has recently been published by True Chili, and has work forthcoming in Five on the Fifth.  Her collection of flash fiction, The Blue Hour will be available on Amazon this fall.

Just Renters by Jan Darrow

When Louie looked out the bathroom window up into the stars, he remembered why his wife left him.

“Look Louie,” she had said while packing her things, "we’re getting nowhere. You turn down promotions at work. You’ve driven the same car for decades. We live on the bad side of town. More than half of the houses are empty.”

“But I like it here.”

“We’re just renters Louie. We could have a nicer house. We could live anywhere!”

It was true. They could’ve lived anywhere. They were just renters.

But they did live on the bad side of town, and after his wife left, Louie was alone. He didn’t even have a dog and nothing much changed. He went to work, came home and cooked dinner. Day after day. On Sundays, however, his brother Charles stopped by in the evening for dinner.

Then one night, something woke Louie from a deep sleep. What it was he couldn’t say except he was wide awake. He opened the window blind and coming from the house next door was a flickering light.

Louie wasn’t much of a trespasser, but he put on his robe and walked into the long unkempt garden next door. He found the front door unlocked. The flickering light had stopped. He pulled out a flashlight and looked around. No chairs, no dishes. Nothing in the closets. The house was empty except for one table in the living room upon which sat a dated movie projector and a roll of film. He threaded the film, flipped on the switch, and saw images projected onto a blank white wall. To his surprise, it was a home movie taken long ago of the very house he was in and the people living there. He saw birthdays, anniversaries, first days of school, proms and neighborhood parties all fused together.

The neighborhood was full of life; how different the houses looked all painted and clean.

Louie went home after the movie had finished, but he had a lot to think about.

When Charles stopped by for dinner the following Sunday, he found Louie’s house empty. No chairs, no dishes. Nothing in the closets. In fact, nothing anywhere except a table in the living room upon which sat a dated movie projector and a roll of film. He threaded the film, flipped on the switch, and saw the images projected onto a blank white wall. To his surprise, it was a home movie taken long ago of the very house he was in and the people living there. He saw birthdays, anniversaries, first days of school, proms, and neighborhood parties all fused together.

The neighborhood was full of life; how different the houses looked all painted and clean.

And then he saw Louie up on the wall. And Louie waved.

Jan Darrow is a poet from Michigan who connected with the natural world at an early age.  She has been published online and in print and finds abandoned places utterly beautiful.  You can see more of her work at jandarrow.blogspot.com.