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Nearly Home
The storm now past, the dark clouds drift away,
Unveiling tranquil skies at end of day,
Whose cheering beams imbue the gathering gloam
And my own heart with peace, as I walk home.
The hours of labor fled, I heave a sigh,
And give a nod to all who pass me by:
The bobby strolling on his evening beat
At easy pace along the lamp-lit street,
The workmen as they leave the noisy pub,
The women toting groceries home for grub,
The children playing hopscotch in the park,
Whose parents watch them in the growing dark.
I hear their giddy voices fill the air
And note the scent of ash is everywhere,
As plumes of smoke from chimney pots arise,
Swept by a cooling breeze into the skies.
There, evening swallows silently fly by
In graceful arcs that span the dimming sky,
While down below, in puddles that I pass,
The twilight gleams in sheets of shattered glass.
The priceless quiet of this peaceful dusk,
More rare than jade or any ivory tusk,
Will live on, with its power to spellbind,
Ïn memory’s eye, forever there enshrined.
And when, upon a sweet, idyllic eve,
I hear God call, I’ll gladly take my leave,
Content to know I’ve reached my journey’s end,
And home awaits me, just around the bend.
.
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Martin Rizley grew up in Oklahoma and in Texas, and has served in pastoral ministry both in the United States and in Europe. He is currently serving as the pastor of a small evangelical church in the city of Málaga on the southern coast of Spain, where he lives with his wife and daughter.
Charming alliteration on ‘l’ in:
“And when, upon a sweet, idyllic eve,
I hear God call, I’ll gladly take my leave […]”
Thanks for your feedback, Daniel. I hadn´t realized that the “i” in idyllic can be pronounced with a long “i”; but several dictionaries I consulted agreed that both pronunciations are permissible. So if I ever read it aloud on some occasion, I will pronounce “idyllic” with a long “i”, which as you point out, creates a nice alliterative effect.
This is a truly lovely and moving poem, Martin, about strolling through the November of life. It isn’t necessarily a period piece but the language and images subtly evoke an earlier age which somehow feels fitting to the subject. The lamp-lit streets and the chimney pots, for example. The gloam, the bobby, the playing of hopscotch, the jade, the ivory tusk. It all feels like a distant memory of the past and I found myself reading this as if it were a Victorian-era poem. The poem’s brevity serves it well and it’s “out of time” feel gives the piece a certain universality. I love the observations, the sentiment and the cheerful stroll towards the last of this earthly life knowing that God awaits. It is truly a wonderful poem.
Thank you so much, Brian, for your appreciative comments. The decidedly British imagery in the poem– with bobbies, chimney pots, pubs, etc.– is owing to the fact that I was moved to write the poem in response to a lovely painting of the same name by a British painter named Craig Everett. You can see that painting here: https://www.facebook.com/profile/100064499777898/search/?q=Craig%20Everett
The paintings of the Victorian era landscape artist, John Atkinson Grimshaw, may also have been in my mind´s eye as I wrote the poem, which would explain its “out of time” feel. Grimshaw even has a painting entitled “Going Home at Dusk.”
An interesting mix of imagery, Martin. I recall as a boy running up the road to see when the chimney sweep’s brush popped out the top of the chimney being swept (The chimney sweep wasn’t Dick Van Dyke!). I also recall the last beat policeman in the town I lived in as a boy, and the village bobby in the village I lived in in the 80s.
I get a Wordsworth, ‘Daffodils’ vibe from the last two stanzas. It works very well as a wrap to your poem that brings back vivid memories.
Thanks for the read.
Thank you, Paul, for your comments. It was very encouraging to me to hear that the poem brought back vivid memories of your boyhood. I did not grow up in England, but images of England have fired my imagination since I fell in love with the country as a boy reading picture books, studying maps and watching movies set in London and in the English countryside. Finally, around the age of thirty, I was able to make a bicycle tour of Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds and have made several trips since then to London and its environs. I would love to know more of the country some day and visit places which, until now, I know only as an armchair traveller.
I really enjoyed this, Martin, and it repays repeated readings. Brian (above) has already used the term “period piece”, which is exactly how it strikes me. The third and (particularly) fourth stanzas evoke for me the industrial north of England where I mostly grew up. The whole breathes tranquillity and a calm resignation. Thank you.
Thank you, Martin, for your feedback. I am glad that you enjoyed the poem and that the descriptive language triggered memories of very specific places and experiences you had growing up. That´s one thing I love about poetry– the power of words to awaken feelings of nostalgia by transporting us in our thoughts to another time and place. I like your reference “tranquility and calm resignation” for that is precisely the atmosphere and the outlook I wished to convey in the poem.
Martin, your cinematic imagery imbues a deep sense of appreciation for the small things that create a fulfilled life. Your powerful last stanza reflects the sense of serenity, as the last chapter of life is so eloquently written.
Paulette, thanks for sharing your thoughts on the poem. I love your phrase “a deep sense of appreciation for the small things that create a fulfilled life.” That is what I would like to have always, for it truly is the case that appreciating the “small things,” savoring the little enjoyments along life´s way, not only delivers us to some extent from the hectic pace of modern life, but can also serve as grist for the mill for future poetic creations.
Martin, you imbued this poem with heartfelt tranquility and serenity that is imbibed by the soul. By extension the peacefulness professed at the end of a day should be the that felt at the end of our years when we hear the phrase “well done thou good and faithful servant.”
I appreciate your words, Roy, and the connection you draw between the peace felt at the end of a long day and at the end of this mortal life, when the believer can draw near to his departure from this present mortal life assured of a blessed homegoing.
I love your portrayal of twilight gleaming in puddles’ “sheets of shattered glass”.
Thanks for your feedback, Cynthia!
It doesn’t get much more lyrical than this. Rizley is the master of his niche.
C.B.,
Thank you for your words of appreciation for the poem; they mean a lot!
In your poem, the evening walk becomes a quiet farewell, and its wistful nostalgia drifts like a soft memory of days gone by—through lamp-lit streets, children at play, and the gentle hush of twilight. Every image lingers, turning ordinary moments into a tender reflection on home, life, and the eternal peace that waits just around the bend.
Karen,
Your description of the poem is a poem in itself! You have expressed beautifully what the poem is all about and what I was seeking to convey. Thank you for sharing these reflections.
Dear Martin,
It would be a different world if more people walked with their senses as receptive as yours are in this peaceful poem. The current trend of bodies walking with bent heads to ensure they miss nothing on their devices actually causes them to miss everything.
The “scent of ash” makes me want to take a deep breath while walking where the speaker has walked.
Gigi
Thank you, Gigi, for your response. Alas! It comes all too easy for us in this modern age to walk down the street, as you say, “with heads bent to ensure we miss nothing on our devices.” I´ve been guilty of doing that far too often. But in my saner moments, I have managed to break free of the hypnotic attraction of my Android, and looking over the top of my tombstone-shaped cell phone, have discovered a vibrant world around me full of life and breath-taking beauty, in things both little and small. We pay far too much attention to the electronic time-robbing bandits that we carry about. And in doing so, we miss out on so much.
Thank you so much, Gigi, for your remarks. It is so true that in our modern world, we find it all too easy to walk around, as you say, “with bent heads to ensure we miss nothing on our devices.” Alas! I have walked around “nose in screen” too often, but I find that when I succeed in breaking free of the hypnotic pull of my Android screen, and look over the top of my tombstone-shaped cell phone, I discover once again around me a world, so full of life and breath-taking beauty that it serves as an inexhaustible source of poetic inspiration.
Finely structured, Martin. Your works, whether they feature description or narration, usually have a coda with recognition of the divine in the scene or the story. In this poem, you move gradually toward that coda. In the first stanza, “my own heart at peace” defines the atmosphere described in painstaking detail during the first five stanzas. This is mood-setting anticipation, describing the emotional place to put the details. “Twilight gleams in sheets of shattered glass” breaks it, but breaks the peace by introducing more of the “cheering beams” that opened this account of a walk home. Rare beautiful objects in the sixth stanza proceed from there, turning more to meditation rather than description. Finally, in the last stanza, the walk and the thought conclude in unified and explicitly transcendent concert. Well planned spiritual development, allowing each reader to wish for an equally tranquil excursion home!
Thank you, Margaret, for your valued reflections on my poem. I think any poet feels greatly encouraged when something he has written receives such careful analysis as your own, highlighting various features such as structure, thematic development, word choices– all of which goes to show that the poem has been well understood, enjoyed, and appreciated, and that one heart has successfully conveyed through words his inner thoughts and feelings to another.
This lovely poem is just a joy to read and re-read.
Thank you for your feedback, Russell!