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| Wheat Field With Rising Sun - Vincent Van Gogh |
Midday, and the wind is holding its breath.
Children's bicycles half-hidden in tall grass by the roadside.
Golden fields stretching as far as the eye can see,
crops reaching into the sun-blind sky, towards ripening.
Larks rise, trilling their joyous song,
cicadas shrill for attention in the drowsy air.
Blackbirds cease strutting
and snails are safe from the thrush's beak.
The children rest, damp roots of clover cooling tired bodies;
cornflowers, wild thyme and poppies licking faces
hot from childish efforts,
the scent of sage sweetening their breath.
Their ride was long and arduous.
Lanes disappearing in the flicker of advancing day
the shimmer of blue hills calling for greater deeds,
to reach a foreign land, a village far beyond.
The day has reached the hour between dream and waking,
white clouds stand still up high,
their graceful dance across the sky for now at rest.
The silent heat of noon falls heavy on the land.
Children's bicycles half-hidden in tall grass by the roadside.
Golden fields stretching as far as the eye can see,
crops reaching into the sun-blind sky, towards ripening.
Larks rise, trilling their joyous song,
cicadas shrill for attention in the drowsy air.
Blackbirds cease strutting
and snails are safe from the thrush's beak.
The children rest, damp roots of clover cooling tired bodies;
cornflowers, wild thyme and poppies licking faces
hot from childish efforts,
the scent of sage sweetening their breath.
Their ride was long and arduous.
Lanes disappearing in the flicker of advancing day
the shimmer of blue hills calling for greater deeds,
to reach a foreign land, a village far beyond.
The day has reached the hour between dream and waking,
white clouds stand still up high,
their graceful dance across the sky for now at rest.
The silent heat of noon falls heavy on the land.
this is so serene friko....bikes in the grass...ah that was my childhood...in between wake and dream as well..a time i know well...
ReplyDeleteWonderful images of childhood freedom. How many today have such pleasures, I wonder?
ReplyDeletea lovely pastoral reverie, beautifully catches the atmosphere of the painting
ReplyDeletebest wishes
Isabel
I love the image you create in the second line: "Children's bicycles half hidden in tall grass by the roadside," a quintessential childhood scene. And, this one: "the shimmer of blue hills calling for greater deeds," those childhood dreams of where life will take us. This is just lovely.
ReplyDeleteAs glittering as the painting, and twice as atmospheric. ♥
ReplyDelete'and snails are safe from the thrush's beak.
ReplyDeleteThe children rest,'
A perfect juxtaposition.
playful like a child,
ReplyDeleteyour words paint a vivid image here.
well done.
That's lovely. Such concrete images, painting the picture and evoking the scene. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteI see my childhood in the beautiful scene you've painted.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! Jim
ReplyDeleteI love this post, thank you Friko. Have a great week.
ReplyDeleteThis poem brings back memories of when the next town over was a 'foreign land' and New York City was a distant shore. I haven't seen any fields of grain around here lately, only construction which is important too because all the grown up children need homes. Dianne
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely gorgeous, Friko! Such joyful and lush imagery.. It reminds me of how much I loved summer when I was a child.
ReplyDeleteI feel like I took a walk with you and learned to better appreciate the wonders there.
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautifully evocative poem!
ReplyDeleteFrom "Midday, and the wind is holding its breath" to "The silent heat of noon falls heavy on the land", wonderful. I'm still waiting.
ReplyDeleteThe feel of a journey, through time as well as space, very present, and the capture of all the components of the memory is exact and lyrical. Enjoyed the tale and the telling.
ReplyDeleteHi Friko ..you live in such a wonderful place - now I've done a quick run through near your castle! I'm not surprised poems like this can flow from your pen .. really evocative of summer .. and the summer ride ..
ReplyDeleteBeautiful .. lovely descriptions .. cheers Hilary
Gorgeous, evocative imagery.
ReplyDeleteFriko, I will always associate clover and its flowers and the fun of making chains of those flowers, while looking for the rarity of a four-leafed clover, amongst great childhood summer pleasure.
ReplyDeleteThank you for bringing me these memories via this post.
xo
The carefree days of childhood indulgence. How nicely written!
ReplyDeleteHank
"The day has reached the hour between dream and waking,"
ReplyDeleteHow beautifully you evoke a childhood summer's day.
Gorgeous imagery - an enchanting read.
ReplyDeleteSo all encompassing of those moments between light and darkness, near the end of the day. Bikes hidden by tall grasses, lying to look skyward, feeling the joys of childhood freedoms and dreams. Beautifully shared.
ReplyDeleteWould this be in Germany? The freedom of childhood on a bike is a great memory for me too. The language of specificity from your memories of this time in nature is lovely, and yes lyrical.
ReplyDeleteFriko--
ReplyDeleteYou painted with words so well. "The wind is holding its breath...the damp roots of clover cooling...the shimmer of blue hills." Wow!
Stunning imagery, completely captivating
ReplyDeletethe shimmer of blue hills calling for greater deeds,
ReplyDeleteto reach a foreign land, a village far beyond. Oh, your ability to turn a phrase. Just beautiful.
Van Gogh's paintings often strike me as having a poem or story behind them. Such an evocative, passionate artist. Your poem is a lovely accompaniment to this image.
ReplyDeleteThis is a scene I can find deep in my memory too. Lovely piece.
ReplyDeleteJust beautiful. It gives me a strong nostalgic pull to my own childhood.. and to my kids'.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful lyrical words Friko of childhood past. Now, from the children I see around me, they spend many hours watching TV, with their computer, texting or on their cell phones. Here in the US many mothers are over controlling their kids (I have seen several reports on this lately in the news.) The poor kids don’t have too much time to go on their bicycles, even if their mothers let them use them away from their subdivisions!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully stated, adorned with memories
ReplyDeleteprecious, vivid, and halcyon. One of my
favorites of your efforts. Wonderfully done.
Like the line: /damp roots of clover cooling
tired bodies/; lyrical in both an immediate
and exotic manner.
Your nicely chosen words spark my imagination, and the scenery of children’s bicycling on a hot summer day in pastoral area unfolds before my eyes. I especially like the fourth stanza. You’re one of my favorite poets, Friko! Wish you a happy week ahead.
ReplyDeleteYoko
I especially like the line
ReplyDelete"damp roots of clover cooling tired bodies" It makes me remember the very physical side of childhood and being so much more closely connected with trees and plants. Thank you.
ein eindrucksvolles Gedicht, aber in den letzten Satz: "The silent heat of noon falls heavy on the land" habe ich mich absolut verloren...!
ReplyDeleteDir einen sehr schönen Tag!
Renée
Your word picture is as beautiful and somnolent as Van Gogh's! Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful.
ReplyDeleteI'm too late to add anything new! Well expressed.
ReplyDeleteI feel as if I've just been on a long and lovely bicycle ride.
ReplyDeleteOh, the hours spent riding bicycles. And that hour between sleep and waking. Lovely. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteVery thoughtful - idyllic portrait of childhood.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
the wind is holding its breath..... wow, i like this line very much! Schöne Gedichte... :)
ReplyDeleteFriko, you captured the feeling of his painting perfectly .....
ReplyDeleteA word painting in reply to Van Gogh. You make us see it clearly and hear the sounds as well. Beautiful.
ReplyDelete