Sweetlight Hour

Notional ideas, original and published poems, my own actual imagery...Sweetlight refers to the "golden hour" of photography, during dusk or dawn, when the lighting is soft and sweet, diffused, and warm.

[sweetlighthour]

THE CHARIOT. BECAUSE I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me ; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done ; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun.

Emily Dickinson 1890

[sweetlighthour]

The late summer evening air

Hung damp and heavy with despair

Until  the miracle of the sun

Instantly transformed it to become

A prism of colors through the leaves

That graciously brought me to my knees.

[sweetlighthour]

Waiting on the rain It's sure a-comin' Lots of folks praisin' And happy as a plum in The hot summer sun So they soon won't become A raisin.  Waiting on the rain It's sure a-comin' Lots of wind blows And we’re happy plowin’ rows In the cool wind a-wavin’ ‘Cause they ain’t a-bakin’ ... Like a raisin.

Becky Caffery LePage

[sweetlighthour]

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,     That mark our place; and in the sky     The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,     Loved and were loved, and now we lie,         In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw     The torch; be yours to hold it high.     If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow         In Flanders fields.

written May 3, 1915 during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae after presiding over the funeral of friend and fellow soldier Lieutenant Alexis Helmer

[sweetlighthour]

I wandered lonely as a cloud   That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,   A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine   And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line   Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they   Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay,   In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie   In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye   Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth 1802

[sweetlighthour]

I went back and forth, to and fro upside down, across the sky, to see a magical wood, seemingly from my mind's eye. The swing was big, and I was small, you would say "a little guy", I saw that spot of trees, If only to be there I thoughtfully sigh... It was lush and bold, against the clouds, I remember why, it was bent and propped up, with my heart's hope, thereby. I've only seen it upside down, leaning back in my swing, head over heels as I seem to fly, A repeating live amidst wooded glen, on each arc once again - with magic eye.  

[sweetlighthour]

Shaggy Snow Day

Shaggy Ice

Shaggy hair

Shaggy snow

Would I dare?

Take a Ride

On the Ice

Twixt the Snow

Twist my Hair

The Ice Perm

Is now in style!

[sweetlighthour]

Three Quarter Moon

Three quarter moon

Seemingly round

Encircled with leaves

In a tree you are found

Are you Julius Caesar

Born of Venus and fire

Fully believing

That which you desire

Great lunar of light

Come and conquer the night

Satisfy the glorious sky

With your might

Soon you'll bow last

To the morning sun

The die is cast

The night overcome.

[sweetlighthour]

My Turtledove

The brown-eyed dove

perches in shadow

amid the midday sun

cooing playfully to his mate

He dabbles with her

like light on a branch

dancing all around her

and she with him

Puffing  his chest feathers

he seems to say

Is it me that you love

my sweet turtledove?

She pecks on his neck

to answer his call

and together take flight

wing in wing, all in all.

[sweetlighthour]

A Frog Story

The frog lives in the woods and is happy, but he asks the neighboring wizard

why life seems simple, one dimensional and lacking some sort of pizzazz.

It's because he doesn't know that his life is only black and white and has no color. He and the wizard embark on a journey to figure out why. One by one they figure out things, learning and experimenting one color at a time.

Eventually they end of in a full color world!

[sweetlighthour]

The color of the sun is white

As it infiltrates the misty morning light

Backlit trees rise up tall and strong

Wispy leaves to them belong.

Silence ......

Fills the air with song.

[sweetlighthour]

Neon green

The streetlight beams

Beckons one

The day's begun.

The tint of citrus lime

Introduces the harvest of time

Until the morning sun

Fades it to none.

[sweetlighthour]

Rose reflection in the street

It is where we first did meet

The rain had left the puddle there

To catch my gaze of you so fair.

How is it that beauty lies

Beneath the surface in disguise.

All we need to do is look

A moment, is all it took.

[sweetlighthour]

If all the world were upside down

And the moon eclipsed the sun

Would you still love me like you do

Until all our days are done?

[sweetlighthour]

In the dream, the swan just found out something beautiful in the water,

it's at the center of the swirl, down below the golden rays of the sun off to the horizon. The thing is unknown, but blue and red, with large golden sunlight specks visible only to the swan below the water.

The swan doesn't know it yet, but it will capture his heart forever,

for a lifetime, and then some.

[sweetlighthour]

Colors changing hue

Morning fields of amber grain

Weathered faces lined in pain Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand what you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They did not listen, they did not know how 

                                                                     Perhaps they'll listen now

Vincent by Don McLean

[sweetlighthour]

Three Years Old

THREE YEARS OLD

A robbin up in the linden-tree    Merrily sings this lay: "Somebody sweet is three years old--    Three years old to-day." Somebody's bright blue eyes look up    Through tangled curls of gold, And two red lips unclose to say--    "To-day I am free years old."

Clouds were over the sky this morn,    But now they are sailing away; Clouds could never obscure the sun    On somebody sweet's birthday. Bluest of skies and greenest of trees,    Sunlight and birds and flowers, These are Nature's birthday gifts    To this sweet pet of ours.

The pantry is brimming with cakes and creams    For somebody's birthday ball. Papa and mamma bring their gifts,    But their love is better than all. Ribbons and sashes, and dainty robes,    Gifts of silver and gold, Will fade and rust as the days go by,    But their hearts will not grow cold.

Then laugh in the sunlight, somebody sweet--    Little flower of June! You have nothing to do with care,    For life is in perfect tune. Loving hearts and sheltering arms    Shall keep old care away For many a year, from somebody sweet,    Who is three years old to-day.

MILWAUKEE, June 26, '73

Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873.