An Evening Pastoral Poem -- Weekend Mini-Challenge
Evening Comes; into the 'burbs
Softly. seemingly unneeded
Porch lights turn on as by magic
Heralding evening's gaiety
Briefcases come into the homes
With windows rolled the cars get locked
Remote controls then honk their horns
The dogs go out to do their thing
Water the plants pick some flowers
Back doors are locked mothers have checked
Children play one more game of tag
Always last the fathers check in
Mothers' takeout supers are spread
Hands are washed and dogs are drooling
God is great God is good let us
thank Him for this food. Now Anen
_ _ _
- Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
- I am linked with Kim Russell in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/07/weekend-mini-challenge-let-evening-come.html?m=1
- I suggest you visit Kim's post at the link above. I enjoyed reading her dissertation of the "pastoral poem" before I tried writing here.
Labels: Historical Artists and Poets, Poem, Real Toads, Syllabic Form, Week-Mini-Challenge
posted by Jim @ 7/27/2019 06:23:00 AM
14 comments
14 Comments:
Brought me back to being a kid again. The only thing missing is firefly chasing.
Like days gone by.
Memories of a sweet and carefree childhood, not much different to mine. What we took for granted, living in that almost Neverland..
You make that time of day come alive. I remember it as a lonely time, when I was a young mother, newly divorced, watching all the fathers coming home. There is a dog in my poem, too. Smiles.
I could see it all in my head, Jim, the porch lights coming on and the fathers coming home with their briefcases. I remember that time of day, playing one more game before we were called in to our evening meals. Nicely done!
Memories of evenings in suburbia now seem like utopia :)
This is a well-written and nostalgic poem and a wonderful tribute to the original.
It needs a dedicated head of the household to allow an evening to come to a fine close given all the rush of the preceding hours of the day. Rightly so Dr Jim!
Hank
Playing with my friends after dinner brings precious memories. Thanks for the reminder.
The days had a routine back then... and that last romp before bedtime... sigh.
It was always that evening meal that got us home on time! Great poem Jim.
Amen, Jim. A fine description of evening.
What a lovely and lyrical description of life in the 'burbs!
A lovely evening, Jim!
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