4 Poems We Love (Summer 2022)
We’ve said it before and will say it again – we love creative people. Getting the opportunity to see our visitors photos and videos when they come to Glamplyfe is one of the best parts of working here. If you’re a writer, photographer, dancer, actor, or generally creative, please reach out about collaborating. Creating meditative moments by disconnecting from technology is easier to do in nature. A good book should be included in every packing list. We rounded up four of our favorite poems that elicit the summery feeling of roasting marshmallows around the campfire at Glamplyfe.
Zulick, Ian. “Ohio”
Torn cotton clouds
Lit like lanterns by bolts of
Sunlight, their wispy wicks
Burn hot and high over muddy rivers
And black asphalt mirrors
Factory fumes like Marlboro reds
Trail fiery and forgotten into the
Forest’s knotted, dirty hair
Where they fall asleep in
A warm bed of clay-choked soil.
A redtail circles the dull
Brown of unshorn fields, waiting
For rabbits to emerge and
Sweep them away like
A late April chill-
The sort that lifts your head
From the low window of a car
And lets you forget the snow
Even as the white of the sunlit clouds
Makes you remember it
As they stroll idly through the sky
Seeming to touch your flesh with the breeze
Blaydes, Colleen Olivia. “Summer”
a summer’s dance
a summer’s kiss
a summer’s romance
a summer’s true bliss
a summer’s light
a summer’s love
a summer’s night
a summer’s turtledove
a summer’s beginning
a summer’s ending
a summer’s destiny
a summer let free
Parker, Dorothy. “August”
When my eyes are weeds,
And my lips are petals, spinning
Down the wind that has beginning
Where the crumpled beeches start
In a fringe of salty reeds;
When my arms are elder-bushes,
And the rangy lilac pushes
Upward, upward through my heart;
Summer, do your worst!
Light your tinsel moon, and call on
Your performing stars to fall on
Headlong through your paper sky;
Nevermore shall I be cursed
By a flushed and amorous slattern,
With her dusty laces’ pattern
Trailing, as she straggles by.
Janca, Tom. “Camping Spot”
I like to camp along the creek,
high up the mountain, next to the peak.
Big green trees are all around
and little waterfalls make their sound.
Always a cool breeze,
that sings through the trees.
Big white clouds float across the sky.
Sometimes they grow so high,
they rain and shower.
But! Not more then an hour.
It’s okey when the sun goes down.
I’ve got a campfire to sit around.
Then late at night when the screech owl
I crawl in bed, and have sweet dreams.