Wednesday, July 7, 2010

summer night

Summer night -
even the stars
are whispering to each other.

a poem by Kobayashi Issa

It's been a while since I offered a small artwork as a prize but it's summer and the giving is easy. If you'd like an opportunity to win this miniature painting all you have to do is leave a poem (or a favorite verse) about the season as a comment. Oh what the heck, a poem if you like or if you prefer prose, just mention something about summer that brings you happiness.

Crow will choose a winner this coming weekend.


Nancy said...

Bed In Summer Poem

In winter I get up at night,
And dress by yellow candle light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day,

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown up people's feet
Still going past me in the street,

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

by Robert Louis Stevenson

jams o donnell said...

You've given me food for though Susan.. I'll have to think about this one

Spadoman said...

These lyrics by Gershwin, from Porgy and Bess, are my favorite of all time. It isn't an original work by me. I know I could never write about a season like this. I submit it. Maybe I need to stop at the Etsy shop and buy one of your piantings. I really like the woman with the globe, or the one that sits in the upper left hand Feeding the Beast.

I've been away, then went away again. I'm back, but busy. I'll see you around. Take care and be well.


George Gershwin

And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Oh, Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

But until that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With your daddy and mammy standing by

And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

Liberality said...

To Be A Bird

Birds walk in the sky.
I wonder
What it would be like to
Walk in the sky.
I will be a bird,
And walk in the sky.
The air is
Very, very cold way up high.
And the sun is
Like a bumblebee,
All yellow and round.
And the dark rain clouds are
Like lots and lots of bumblebees,
All angry and buzzing and angry.
The sky is so blue, and
The butterflies are so orange, and
The ground is
So way down below.

October 1993
Mattie J.T. Stepanek

This is not technically a summer poem but it seems close enough. A child wrote this poem.

marja-leena said...

Love your piece! But I'm too hot to think of a poem - it went to 30C (86F) yesterday and it is going to be even hotter today. My northern blood is not happy.

Randal Graves said...

It's too freaking hot
Summer, go away you bastard
I am serious.

gfid said...

summer's first dress
is infant green.
of bright jewels
each new dawn

Lisa said...

Please don't enter me in the giveaway. I have been the recipient of your generosity already!


Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!
And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,
And let me call Heaven’s blessing on thine eyes,
And let me breathe into the happy air,
That doth enfold and touch thee all about,
Vows of my slavery, my giving up,
My sudden adoration, my great love!

John Keats

Seraphine said...

across the white moon
a single bat flies. i point-
oh look it's a bird!

La Belette Rouge said...

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is is you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

Pagan Sphinx said...

All such nice entries but I have a special fondness for Mary Oliver.

And okay I understand the give-away now. Such a lovely little painting!

I didn't know you have paintings up at your Etsy shop now. I must fly over there and check them out!

Looking forward to catching up with you. I've been traveling and will be going off again in about a week. To Nova Scotia as you know. Keep in touch my friend. Though, I always feel you, regardless.


okjimm said...

Damn... I missed this!

Howza bout...

Eeenie Meanie Minnie Moe
down to the bar I go....
& iffen I'm drunk when I awake....
Hope youse saved me a piece of cake!