Poet's Inspiration

"Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar."

Percy Bysshe Shelley (English Poet 1792-1822), from "A Defence of Poetry"

In this quotation, Shelley suggests that the beauty of the world, hidden, is made manifest by the poet's words. The poet's task or his calling, according to Shelley, is to take ordinary, everyday, familiar objects and expose the colors, the smells, and the essence of these objects. In essence, reveal their glory.

In the poems that I present here, I've tried to reflect the beauty of summer. I've tried to do as Shelley has suggested and "lift the veil...of familiar objects". A sense of melancholy is expressed in the poems at the passing of summer.

I call them 'Musings' because they are glimpses of moments in time that I've written about. They were penned at different times with similar themes. I pondered and became absorbed in thought around each subject. The grass, the creatures, and nature itself are under examination. I've attempted to explore, through my words, the hidden beauty of our world.

I present these 'Summer Musings": one poet's inspiration.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69388/a-defence-of-poetry

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

Crickets resound,

in the heat of the night.

A scent on the breeze,

through the leaves of the trees;

the stars as they shine,

twinkling bright;

the sun on the moon,

a shower of beams;

The well trodden path

sprinkled with light. end

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

Crickets chirping, bullfrogs croaking

A shadow crosses the path of the moon,

wings spread fully, broadly against the night sky.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

My path, dimly lit by the twinkling stars and clouded moon, winds through the wood. My feet crackle fallen twigs and leaves, and squish the dew on the grass. The wind blows a thought of her, into my mind as the scent of fern, mint, mingle and reach my nose. (The night I met her at the edge of Wilson's pond…) My heart pounds, my palms sweat; I smile to the crickets and wonder: where she is.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

The distant echo of bullfrogs, and

the hoot of a night owl resounds about me.

My haven in the night assures me of sought-for solitude.

(the peace, the security of my aloneness--thoughts of loneliness)

Solo in the night.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

The valley and the night, filled by the hollow echoes of a barking dog.

Then, silence hung over the hills, like an early morning mist, in autumn.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

The sole and heel of summer are touching toes, through blades of grass.

(Thoreau is nice to read in the sunlight.)

A breeze, through the trees, cools sole and heel.

(the breezy sneeze of pollen)

The dark skin is hot as toes touch the damp, warm, dewy grass at dusk.

(cooling clouds pass over)

The last Rose of Summer is covered by a leaving pile of leaves.

(And your summer tan, fades as the sun, goes down.)

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

As the blades of grass tickle ‘tween my toes,

the sweet smell of the morning dew,

brings me thoughts of you.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long

A poet takes inspiration when he can get it. Memory (childhood), nature (animals, mountains), emotions (love, fear) and relationships are common inspirations for poets. Winter, spring, summer and fall are often themes in a poetry. Anything that stirs emotion or creativity or an inner image can serve as a source for a poets inspiration.

Let the poet from within claim his inspiration.

© 2013 ajwrites57
A Long