The mere mention of Yorkshire Fog Grass in a random conversation elicited a memory of distant childhood recently. Such are the merurial sparks of poetic inspiration. It behoves us to be constantly alert to the stirrings of poetry magic.
For more than a week, a poem percolated in my mind before it was sufficiently formed to emerge in my notebook. It has been further revised to reach this moment.
Hope this nostalgic recollection resonates and sparks memories of your own wild imaginings and experiences. Were you a cloud watcher too?
The Cloud Watchers
The Yorkshire Fog grass
grew wildly
on the vacant lot
next to my grandfather’s cottage
Grass, bleached by the summer sun
And now the colour of wheat.
Dense grass, so long,
Small children could hide in it with ease
And watch people passing by
-and so, we did.
Robert, Margaret and me
Lying on our backs
Staring at the sky
Watching a slew of clouds
Slide across the heavens.
All the while, those nebula were shape-shifting
Into castles, clowns and caterpillars
Monsters, mountains and monkeys.
We were unofficial members of the
Cloud Watcher’s Club
Without a cloud of doubt.
Alan j Wright
It is once more, Poetry Friday and this time our genial hosts is Linda B. at Teacher Dance. Linda's post touches on superstition, world unrest and clouds.
Hi Alan, love reading about this percolating in your 'poetry mind' for a while until it opened a sweet memory, hiding in the grass with friends, watching those clouds transform into sky beings! I watch still, see them everywhere, delight in the sky, no "cloud of doubt" here either! Have a lovely weekend, "outside"!
ReplyDeleteHi Linda. love your term, sky beings, and yes, delighting in the sky never loses its appeal. May your weekend hold a bounty of smiles.
DeleteWhat a delightful childhood memory. The alliteration makes the listing in stanza 4 more interesting. A perfect description of grass at the end of summer: “Grass, bleached by the summer sun
ReplyDeleteAnd now the colour of wheat.” I have always been a cloud watcher... laying on my back with my brothers. And I always loved it when the contrail of a plane mixed with the clouds. I would imagine the exotic places the passengers were going. Little did I know that I'd fly over 5 million miles across the years... and my cloud watching be from above instead of beneath. -Alice Nine
Thank you for your considered remarks, Alice, Much appreciated. Your allusion to plane flights is an apt connection for we who watch clouds, whether it be from below, above, or within.
DeleteAlan, love this memory from time spent at your grandfather's cottage, and that wonderful photo! I am inspired by this lovely poem to watch some clouds this week and see what arises from the nebula!!! Love the ending, too: "Without a cloud of doubt." This feels like it could be the title poem of a whole collection!
ReplyDeleteHappy cloud watching, Mona. You give me more to ponder. Thank you for your kind words.
DeleteOh, yes, to many memories of watching clouds (and telling stories based on the shape-shifting.) :) And isn't "Yorkshire Fog grass" so evocative! You've got me sinking into memories of childhood.
ReplyDeleteSinking into childhood memories was how I discovered this poem, Karen, so I wish you much in the way of creative impulse.
DeleteI was definitely a cloud-watcher, especially in my lifeguard years, up on my lifeguard stand watching summer thunderstorms roll in and waiting until the last moment to clear the pool before the storm hit!
ReplyDeleteThunderstorm watcher- a sub category, Mary Lee. There's something to explore in that part of your history methinks.
DeleteAlan, this is so beautiful. You took me back to moments in my own childhood, the simple times before technology stole our attention.I think I may have to lie in my grass this summer and do just that. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your generous remarks, Cathy. Enjoy your cloudwatching. It is never too late to reclaim a little bit of childhood magic, safer though if you do it in the company of children -fewer questions.
DeleteGorgeous poem Alan, you bring us right there into that protected field of imagination! Your poem sounds like the beginning of an adventure, perhaps it will grow and expand. Yes I'm a cloud watcher, they are fascinating, saw many different animals the other day, thanks!
ReplyDeleteMy youngest grandchildren has a rich and varied imaginary world and I am most willing to go there with her any time she likes. It's so much fun to have a licence to ponder possibilities. Maybe I can incorporate this poem into my latest writing project -a verse novel -at least a version of it. Thanks for prompting my thinking, Michelle. Great to know you are a fellow cloud watcher.
DeleteAh yes, I was in a Cloud-Watcher's Club ages ago. I'm putting my 3 ½ year old grandson up for membership this year ;)
ReplyDeleteGood for you, Patricia. You are keeping an ancient tradition healthy through your actions. May the clouds perform accordingly.
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