July 4th – Happy Independence Day and Happy Canada Day (July 1)! We look to the night sky for today’s inspiration. And certainly, neither celebration would be complete without fireworks displays. Write of the lights the night reveals. Fireworks, citronella candles, fireflies, patio lanterns… you choose your illumination.
STAYING ON THE TRAIL
July 3 – IN THE SUMMERTIME (MUSIC)
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
SMOLDERING EMBERS
Lifting into the sky,
a string of flickering light.
A random path to the stars,
each pop and crackle
augments every pinprick
in the evening darkness.
The lake is still, reflecting
each fleck of every spark presented.
All send heavenward
until the campfire dies.
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
Sunuvagun…. we hit on the same thing, maybe the same fire. Love this, Walt.
Lovely – but the sticks come down to earth!
Hey Walt, I like how this poem ascends in the beginning and descends with a dying campfire. Nice!
I love the way firelight looks in the great outdoors…you’ve described it so well, Walt. 🙂
I want to sit there with you . . .
I love campfires, with their mesmerizing ways, and you’ve depicted a wonderful one here for us, Walt. Thank you so much. Fireplaces can play stand-ins in the winter, but nothing really can take the place of one outside under the stars. Thank you for bringing the camp to us.
I love the use of a pinprick in the evening darkness. Wonderful poem.
CAMPFIRE
Orange flickering;
crickets snickering;
embers floating in the sky;
on this patch of ground
we sit, all around,
entranced as all time stands by.
Fly-sparks greet the night,
transient, yet bright;
stars all glitter in surprise
till morning intrudes.
Each of us concludes:
dawn should wait till all time flies.
copyright 2014, William Preston
great play with words.
Spectacular and festive one William 🙂
Yes, nights like those should go on and on…love the crickets snickering! 🙂
I’ll go along with the sentiments here, William, except for one piece of reasoning. Unless the skeeters are forced away, this kid doesn’t to the all-nighter outdoors anymore. I’m too tasty to some. 🙂 Otherwise, I’m with ya all the way on this one. Really nice.
This sounds like a song, William.
[…] Granada Camp for Wayward Poets prompt today is for a fireworks poem for the fourth of July; theFrench National Day, with fireworks, […]
Golden Rain and rockets
The Granada Camp for Wayward Poets prompt today is for a fireworks poem for the fourth of July; theFrench National Day, with fireworks, is quatorze juillet, and there will also be fireworks for the Fête Saint Pierre carneval, in our old village on 12th July and Fête Saint Clair in our new village the following Saturday, so
We shall feast with fireworks
all the way through July
with oohs and aahs
from most of us
and Jock will wonder why?
He’s a firework philistine.
Ah, tres bien mon amie! Bonjour!!
Bon jour, et merci.
I love this piece, especially the title. Don’t know any French, though. That reminds me: once in my life I was on the European continent; it was in Holland. A Dutch taxi driver spoke his language to a policeman, and I remarked on how melodious it sounded. He said, “Ah, if you want to learn a lovely language, learn French. It sounds beautiful even when they swear at you.”
I do love the French language, but it’s very difficult to sing in French – for that you need Italian!
Excellent closing lines!! 🙂
July 14th? Anyhow, what a lovely long celebration
Ah, the French have so many celebrations with the “works,” or so it seems. Love this, Viv.
THE LIGHTS OF FREEDOM
The festive spirit
hastily ignites a nation.
Ever burning brightly,
sightly, without hesitation.
Rident with red, white, wise barrels of blazing blue.
Tis famed report; a storied three, yet single mingled hue.
Benjamin Thomas
I think this is wonderful, especially the “mingled hue.” We’re working on it.
Love the rhyme in single/mingled and the meaning in this powerfully packed short poem, Benjamin!
Thanks Hannah. Happy 4th!
You’re welcome and thank you!! 🙂
I love the famed report of the storied three.
Wonderful, Ben. I think it’s the “single mingled hue” that gets to me.
Beautiful writing and thoughts, Benjamin!
[…] Bloomings-July 4th-Fireworks and/or any other source of light of our […]
Imagine
Somewhere not too far from here
there’re lots of someones standing,
every face is tuned to the heavens –
anticipation builds as they wait,
watching for bright things to explode.
Bouquets of fiery iris’ fill the firmament
they’re imprinted in mind’s eye,
I don’t need to see them every year
I can conjure the excitement in my belly…
my first sprinkler that overwhelmed me
and my first view of consuming wild blooms
etched across the inky sky in stippled light.
Yes, it’s easy to recall these feelings
as I lay beneath a summer sheet of stars –
twinkling distant planets and swell of moon,
I listen to the distant booms and imagine.
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014
I can imagine, too, very nice.
Thank you for imagining with me Connie!
I think this is just beautiful, both for what you imagine and what you see; your words convey both brilliantly. Many thanks.
I’m so glad you enjoyed the two sides of it, William…thank you!
I used to live in a third floor apartment where we could see fireworks across the city. . .distant booms and the highest of the fireworks.
Wonderful…what a view!! Thank you, Darlene!!
I’ve commented on your site, Hannah, but I’ll say again that this is a terrific poem that fills the reader with both image and sound to keep thoughts whirling for a while.
Thank you so much for your comments, Claudsy! I’m so glad that this drwe you in on those sensory levels!
Well, it appears as though the blog comment never stuck…I’m sorry, I just went digging around to see if it was lurking in the spam…it isn’t.
I’m sorry, Hannah. I’ve had several do that lately and haven’t figured out what the problem is. At least you know I left one. 🙂
(Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)
Serenity’s Flight
Twinkling solitaire in the night
Serenity singing in fireflies’ light
Wandering quietly thru night’s dark plight
Settling softly on wings of flight.
Henrietta, this is a delight to read.
Thank you, so much, Connie!!
Wow. This has the ambience of a lullaby. Gorgeous.
William, what a nice compliment, Thank you!!
serenity and fireflies. . . can we bottle it up and sell it?
Oh, I know… wouldn’t that be Wonderful!! ❤ !!
I love this, Hen. Such a sweet and tender verse. This would make such a marvelous poster for the wall. I can see it in my head. Silly, maybe, but I’d have one.
This is a fairy tale song. Love it!
Thank you, Sara!!
WHAT DO THE STARS WHISPER
Do the stars of the Fourth snicker up there
at the unreasonable facsimile of fireworks?
What do they whisper to one another
in their constant galactic orbits in the skies of July?
We have no idea, and even question
that stars can speak, but who are we to second-guess the Creator
of the universe? What do we really know?
We carry our canvas chairs from the trunk of the Toyota,
find a place in the Kroeger parking lot
across from the stadium and wait impatiently for night to fall,
its darkness devouring the late sun’s shadow.
“Look at the moon,” you say, “full and bright up there.”
I look and wonder what secrets hide behind that lunar face,
How many millions of brave soldiers sucked into history
Are remembered: grave markets on the pocked
crater surface. Meanwhile, the celebration has begun.
A salvo of explosive fire
Trails a bright ascension into the ebony sky.
For a moment these fireworks sadden me.
I’ve seen them on TV in the Middle East
far above bomb-demolished, body-littered streets.
Do the stars snicker at our hypocrisy?
Do they whisper how far we need to go before we reach
the stellar brilliance of seeing the absurdity
of bombs bursting in air?
#
Sal this is fantastic in meaning, writing skill and creativity.
Amen, amen.
Gallantly said, Sal. We need to ask ourselves these kinds of questions more often. As William said, Amen!
That’s Progress
In our country neighborhood
streetlights appeared one by one,
so gradually, we didn’t realize
they blocked the stars
until we hiked up in the hills
and there they were pulsing white
in a black, black sky.
I hear you, and wish i could see more of them. It took a cross-country trip, and a stop at 3:00 a.m. in southern Utah, for me to realize what I’d been missing. Thanks for this.
Connie, we had similar thoughts. . . loved your poem
I understand this one all too well, Connie. It’s amazing how we believe we need all this light to see where we are at night, when the only time we can really appreciate our real location is when the lights are turned off. Well done, my friend.
I can see them blinking on and also the brilliant contrast in your closing…well painted, Connie!
[…] Written for Creative Bloomings, Day 4 “Light” […]
Campcide Tales, Day 4: Shriekacide
It was a splendid unravel across the stars,
more like dream with no need for ciphers
or keys to translate. For that brief moment,
I thought I knew my place in the world,
thought the sky full of stark-nights and stars
was a venerable stage. I was of that age,
being strong and active, and assuming
every door was open to me. I stretched
out long and broad, fancied myself
filling the sky …
and then Janie Lee Potterhouse came
plodding out of the woods, growling
like an old drain and holding a torch
under her chin …
I screamed.
She screamed because I screamed.
We all screamed.
It was a shriekacide.
Yes, I really hate camping.
~
http://miskmask.wordpress.com/2014/07/04/campcide-tales-day-4-shriekacide/
Love this series, Misky!
Thanks, Connie. 🙂
Another great piece. I think you could call the series, Cidelights.
:D. Yes, possibly.
every day I look forward to your next campacide. well done
Thank you, Darlene. 🙂
Eeeek! You’ve mastered this subject, Misky, I must admit. Now we’re hooked so please remit another each day to educate us all on forms such emotion can create. I’m gathering new “cides” for a piece on creative thought, and using you as my focus of genius on the subject. 🙂
If you think I’m joking, wait til August for a post about this. I gather material everywhere. 😀
That’s a big responsibility! 😀
Ah, but you have the stamina for it, my friend. Seriously, this would make a terrific summertime book for the reluctant camper and veteran alike. 😀
This is priceless!
Rival Lights
The stars look down with some disdain
and sneer at transient displays
of light that burst and fade away
so fast that people dare not blink.
Perhaps the fireworks make them sad,
remind them that time has a way
of easing all the universe
toward a dark and empty space.
The bursts of fireworks, red, white, blue
(if truth be told) must make them smile
for they know when the day is through,
they’ll light our way a longish while.
Tomorrow night we’ll crane our necks
for dippers and Orion’s belt,
and point in awe at falling stars
who served us well, then slipped away.
This should be in the Book of Wisdom, in my opinion.
I’m with William on this one, Jane.
Lovely, Jane.
Electric Illumination
Flickering flames
from the campfire
licking at the inky darkness
trying to invade your space.
Blinking lights
in a field of fireflies
dancing along the
edges of your thoughts.
You douse the flames,
the fireflies settle
and you tilt your head skyward
to watch the electric, colorful power
of a man made lightning show.
Why savor one, when you can savor them all.
Spot on!
Fantastic, Michelle. Love it.
SINGING FIREWORKS
Fireworks, stirring songs
of freedom, twinkling in the sky
Chromatic swirling darts
ignite golden thoughts
which zoom like melodious acrobats
applauding, — kaboom!
Historical rainbows
serenade the night
Silvery waterfalls
crescendo across the moon
painting my Baroque imagination
with loopy, happy tinker bells
and liberating fairies
Allegro heartbeats shimmer
and chant with the stars
Buzzing bee-lights and fireflies
whistle smoky somethings
Merry-go-rounds twirl mezzo curls
of timbre-d time
for ages 2 — to 92
These radiant, crafted, gymnasts
own the night today
Each one rising,
flowing and growing
then, falling deep into nowhere
just disappearing into thin air!
making its own Capella
that fills the silence
with lingering silhouettes
As we drift away
wrapped in adagio chords–
I’m entranced by this piece, especially by the reference to Capella. I understand the allusion to music, but the capitalization calls to mind (for me anyway), the binary star, Capella, in the constellation Auriga, lending an extra bit of ambioence to the lights you see and hear.
A masterful read, Priti, with its own swooping and soaring cadence. Well done with sensation in image and notes.
It’s past noon on a holiday. For whomever is here, here are my thoughts:
UPSIDE DOWN SKY
Not so long ago,
Black velvet nights shown
Stars and moons, from new to full
Camping meant darkness
A single candle
Welcomed wayfarers’ visit
Now, twenty-four hours
Glow from pole to pole
In homes, on cars, at airports
People in planes look
To earth for their light
Stargaze at upside down sky
Love this.
Thank you, Connie. Hope you’ve had a happy 4th!
Marvelous poem, Darlene. This is so true. A person can’t even go to the country to find darkness and the night sky anymore. Security lights are everywhere, lighting up all in their vicinity. How’s a kid supposed to learn what it’s like to lay in the grass and ponder the universe if he/she can’t even see the sky?
Really enjoyed this.
So glad you enjoyed this, Claudsy. You have such a gift of encouragement. . .
I just call ’em like I see ’em, ma’am, as the old cowboy would say. 😀 Not that I’m an old cowboy, but I used to watch westerns. Does that count?
Awesome perspective, Darlene!! I love how it comes into clarity and focus in the closing lines…unexpected and fresh!
Thanks, Hannah!
ILLUMINATING SOUVENIRS
Tiny gems sparkle in black mountain skies,
a backdrop for flickering fireflies.
Campfires blaze in a dazzling display.
Burning “Off!” candles keep mosquitoes at bay.
My eyes still reflect all the shimmering light
from our tiny campsite on one bright summer night.
© Susan Schoeffield
We’re off to our next vacation adventure on Sunday, as soon as the cat and house sitter arrives. Have a safe and relaxing holiday and a poetically-filled week!
This is wonderful, Susan. Such a joy to read.
Have a safe and terrific vacation and please return to play.
Lovely poem, Susan.
[…] is Day 4 of Creative Bloomings “Granada Camp for Wayward Poets” July 2014 Poem-A-Day Challenge! Before running off to attend to last minute vacation preparations, […]
Midnight at the camp counselor’s parking lot
We tried to be as quiet as we could
Though the air trembled with hidden rustlings.
From the darkness a sleepy croak, the sound
Of someone clearing his throat, a basso
Profundo grunt
Many little plops
As small things tumbled into the water.
It was not completely dark. The moon had set
Bur the stars surrounded us with trails of glory.
All different sizes, small and smaller and tiniest
Imaginable or was it just a pin prick in the sky?
Once whole constellations of learned astronomers
Had names and measured every heavenly light.
Some of then, perhaps, searching for
The angels dancing on the head of pins.
But not now, not in our modern superhighway
In the sky – Rockets pierces the star-dust clouds
And what they found was hardly glory
But only old arrangements of the elements of earth.
We sat in the silky grass. We talked of common things
Our horizon interrupted by a plane, its red lights flashing.
Soon the searchlight from the airport had it in its grasp.
So much for straying far away. Earth is home
and here is where we stay. Together now, our pledge
beneath the stars, on my finger comfortable, your ring.
This is lovely, Marian. Well done. I like this story, and its wandering loop of meanings that come back to culminate in that single, final word. Very nice.
Freedom to Blow Up Stuff
A grocery bag full of goodies
Dropped a few bucks at Shelton’s
Gonna’ light ‘em up after the fireworks show
When we get home from the park
Roman Candles, tanks, and firecrackers
Sparklers and sparkling showers
All lit with everlasting punks
Keeping the neighbors awake tonight
But it’s the 4th
Independence Day
A time to celebrate our freedom
Our freedom to blow up stuff
Just hope we have all our fingers in the morning
Don’t you know
© 2014 Earl Parsons
Nice to know the reasoning for the mania of fireworks, Earl. I’ve always wondered what the draw was. 🙂 You’ve explained it in such an entertaining way that I smiled throughout. I grew up where they were outlawed, except for sparklers and then even those gave way to the law. It’s different now, but kids seem to have the same drive as so long ago. Thanks for the memory.
In response to “Fireflies in the Garden”, By Robert Frost
Fireflies in the Summer
Stars dot the evening sky above, combust
in fiery, swirling, clouds of gas and dust,
twinkling carelessly in heartless beauty
(and invite our fondest wishes come true)
but never yet I think made a child laugh
like fireflies in the summer always do.
So very true, Debi. My favorite thing of the summer. Many a jar was sacrificed for a lamp made with newly plucked grass and a few lightning bugs as guests. :: Love this reminder.
Fireflies Rule!
I couldn’t get to this earlier today. Hope you enjoy it. We’re staying in tonight. Too many tourists and craziness going on to brave streets and roads.
Always Wait for the Finale
Streamers and screamers
blasted through air ripe
with excitement.
Crowds vocalized,
rose with anticipation
of colors splashed across
a midnight curtain.
Who would’ve thought
a rodeo ground could
sport such visual delight?
But there we were,
penned, like so many
broncs and battered bulls,
seeking sky lights once more.
By finale, we were drained,
expectations spent,
dreaming of beds instead.
That’s when perfection arrived,
with blazing, waving flag,
eagle, Statue of Liberty amid
pinwheels and giant sparklers.
Memories contained it all,
sights, smells, laughter and
The Star Spangled Banner.
I have to chuckle a little to see the people as a herd like that and the dreaming of beds instead!! Ahem…much how I feel about it really! I love this, “colors splashed across
a midnight curtain.” unique way to state it, Claudsy! Well done!
Thanks so much, Hannah. It was an unexpected night, that’s for sure.
Fourth of July Light Show
The lake outside our window
mirrors a different sunset every night,
the ridge of mountains sometimes clear
as paper cutouts, other times, obscured by clouds.
Tonight we watch at nightfall,
as boats make their way upstream
then stop and wait, watching skyward
for the show to begin, their twinkling lights
a prelude to the lightshow they know to expect.
This one day up and down the lake,
policemen turn their heads, ignoring breaches
in the laws that govern fireworks, parking just close
enough to enjoy the show, to keep an eye out–just in case.
Once the fireworks start, a call and response
between neighbors, each trying to top the last blast
in blast and brightness, in color and height, boaters cheer
and squeal and gasp along with the folks standing on the shore.
And sometimes we look down, away
from the sky, to see the little lights on each boat,
like a mirror reflecting the illuminated nighttime sky,
disappearing just as quickly once the fireworks show closes
Well said, Nancy.
Lovely scene you’ve shared, Nancy. I lived on Flathead Lake for a long while and could watch the various towns along its shore compete with each other and the islands in the middle, to see who could make the most reflections on the water to delight those watching their shows.
Well done.
Candles
Flicker in darkness
candles glow
throwing pink
and purple shadows that dance
elongated shapes.
MAN ON THE MOON
Does the man
on the moon
cry for us?
Does he hide
his phosphorescent face
behind stiff hands
and wonder why
he must always
light the way?
Does he face
our blue world
and lean away
wishing he could
hide from our
stiff smiles and
wandering eyes, wishing
man could see
his own light?