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Gloom at the Shore
Down at the shore of Lake Ontario,
Battleship gray under inclement sky,
We vied for space with seagulls standing by.
Call it a draw—a strange scenario.
Colorless, too, an umbra to the eye,
Were all the trees and other vegetation,
As if they’d bring us sobering information
About what they were doing there, and why.
Amid this seeming anti-celebration,
Enhanced even by sands of ashen tint,
We wandered aimlessly, finding no glint
On wave, or other sign of jubilation.
Land, sea, and sky as one composed this plaint,
Which urged itself on us in still restraint.
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Solstice Eve and Morn
The shortest evening of the year
began with quiet showers coming
without fanfare. Hard to hear—
no water droplets’ constant drumming
__on the pavement or the window panes.
A gentle but persistent presence
was that drizzle—quite as if
it were a feature fixed, an essence:
like an inlet to a skiff—
__no variance, no come–and–go refrains.
Backdrop to this unceasing fall
were sunset crowds of coral pink
beyond the gray, and from them all
poured light for dazzled eyes to drink—
__their raiment seeming one of fast–set stains.
But in just half an hour or so
Those clouds that claimed the west wore rouge—
Cast members in a garish show—
Soon after found a fuchsia,
__Then turned purple, light–bereft remains.
The modulation overhead
told that the rain would drift on by.
At break of day all clouds had fled,
their permanence a proven lie.
__No hint of moisture was there in the air.
And as I wandered the lake shore,
watching while darkness lost its grip,
along with me crept Venus, more
slow–dimming dot than gleaming tip
__of pre–dawn glory beckoning my stare.
But in just half an hour or so
Those clouds that claimed the west wore rouge—
Cast members in a garish show—
Soon after found a fuchsia,
__Then turned purple, light–bereft remains.
The modulation overhead
told that the rain would drift on by.
At break of day all clouds had fled,
their permanence a proven lie.
__No hint of moisture was there in the air.
And as I wandered the lake shore,
watching while darkness lost its grip,
along with me crept Venus, more
slow–dimming dot than gleaming tip
__of pre–dawn glory beckoning my stare.
Below, light bolstered, sights emerged
to draw my eyes, but now to sound
I turned—all things above being purged
from view—and as if spread around
__to match that void hung silence, everywhere.
.
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Julian D. Woodruff, who contributes poetry frequently to the Society of Classical Poets, writes poetry and short fiction for children and adults. He recently finished 2020-2021, a poetry collection. A selection of his work can be read at Parody Poetry, Lighten Up Online, Carmina Magazine, and Reedsy.
Julian, it is obvious you are alive to nature. As your meter sways to and fro I could see your rambling gait and envision; the sky and landscape communicating..
Very pleasant to read.; please give us more.
Thank you, Sally. I guess I have a tendency to begin iambic lines with accented syllables. And there are further off accents here & there within lines, too. It does make for more of a ramble than a dance–maybe better for a nature poem, although the portion of the shoreline I was concerned with is hardly wild.
In the 2nd–my apologies for submitting it to Evan with 3 stanzas unintentionally repeated!–I let accented line beginnings pick up from feminine line endings, perhaps giving more the sense of meandering than of sticking to carefully tilled rows.
Much to comment on here—but my favorite is the “rouge/fuchsia” rhyme. Delightful!
Thank you, Mr. Graham. Thanks to the convenient rhyme, I was able to write what I saw, which was pretty special. (The beginning of the last line of that stanza should have been lower case. Must have been late at night when I sent these 2 in.)
I hope you have a chance to comment further on these
I woke up every morning for about 20 years with a view of Lake Ontario and always took it for granted. You really brought it to life for me.
Mr. Bonham, the changing tones of water and sky, and the influence of wind currents on the water’s surface are constantly fascinating to me. Sunsets on Lake Ontario are frequently every bit as spectacular as those beyond the Golden Gate, which I viewed daily when I was in high school.
Julian, when it is late at night during the winter months on the Canadian side of Lake Ontario, walking on the frozen sand of its shoreline feels like being in a lunar landscape. Thank you for having reminded me of that.
Thank you, Lannie. At any given moment, the north shore of the lake must have many different appearances (regardless of the limited extent of many weather systems over such a vast expanse). I’m familiar only with various points in the Toronto area. Is that where you are reminded of a lunar landscape?
I know better various points on the south shore; here I’m writing about the lake near the mouth of the Genesee River (Rochester).
Julian, “Gloom at the Shore” is enthralling. Closed quatrains with an ambitious sonnet rhyme scheme that masterfully restrains the imagination. I love it.
“Solstice Eve and Morn,” on the other hand, displays enchanting colors in comprehensive motion, then in a process that seems brief, comes to a full stop in pointed silence. That is, the process will be pleasantly brief when you get our moderator to remove the repeated stanzas. What musical term would you use for the composition?
Margaret, thank you for your enthusiastic and pointed comments. Restraint of the imagination is, I suppose, a direct result of descriptive limits here, although as usual in poems of mine in this vein, I was just trying to convey what I saw.
Your question on form is unusual (or expressed unusually). Since all stanzas have the same structure, I think variations is the closest parallel, although content is another matter. And since the end rhyme changes after the 4th stanza, the comparison to variations is misleading. It’s as if the key suddenly and permanently changed, something that doesn’t happen in variation sets that I know.
Julian, these are atmospheric and simply beautiful… the sort of poetry that rises from the page to paint a picture of the wonders of nature. Thank you!
I’m delighted you enjoyed them, Susan. Lake Ontario, here in Rochester, has been a source of wonder to me as long as I’ve known it. Why was it not so with Lake Huron (Dearborn–close enough) and Lake Michigan (Evanston), as it had been with the Pacfic and SF Bay in my early days? I guess my head was too full of such as Lasso, Cherubini, and Schoenberg in those intervening years. Now I’m just a poet (of sorts, anyway, if not a properly struggling one) and give such things a bit more attention.
Julian, I think poets tune into beauty… they stop and look at life with an eye that sees beyond the mundane and the mayhem to reveal those hidden splendors… unless, of course, that poet is a satirist who sings of skulkers and skullduggery. 😉
Subdued, a patient unfurling of things that take time and detachment to even see.
I loved especially the brief portrait of Venus, not at her most glamorous, as if she’s in plainclothes. Makes me think of the time I saw a celebrity professor in church, quiet in the rows of seats like everyone else, and maybe at her most beautiful. Star as dot.
Three of the stanzas in “Solstice Eve and Morn” seem to have been repeated in typographic error.
I admire your resourcefulness and rich imagination, Monika, and so prize your comments here. At the time these were written, I was more responsive to what I see about me than I have been in a while. Maybe I can get some of that back–I hope.