In almost lack of movement of the summer night, when sun
still glares, reflects itself in sea, I walk across the meadow
sparkled, dewed. There’s a sea-gull calling from above,
but when I reach the shore, it rests again. The waves are
soft, a memory of sea wind afternoons, when sails were
filled, and children played. I listen as the water lap the shore
and think of seaways to the south, of leaving and returning,
of buccaneering and of staying put. I realize how much the
stillness in my staying means, and after counting waves,
I walk across the meadow and return to sleep beside you.
To remain in stillness in this almost lack of movement.
Brendan calls for poetry on stillness at toads, and also wants us to use some movements from a poem as a starting point. My start here is from Thomas Tranströmer’s “The blue House”, there is nothing quite as still as a Nordic, summer night filled with light. I will also link up to poetry pantry tomorrow morning.
—
November 12, 2016
Björn Rudbergs writings 
I want to visit a ‘memory of sea-wind afternoons.’
There is an absolute stillness to this poem.
The stillness and movements juxtaposed create quite a tease. And resonates in your activity of observing the sea as you walk along the meadow. A tilltilating write
Much love…
“when sails were
filled, and children played. ”
but now you count the waves
and … return to sleep beside you.
Past and present beautifully acknowledged.
Stunning as ever bjorn. Pleasure to read
I realize how much the
stillness in my staying means…
Such a profound thought, Bjorn.
I smell salt water…
This is absolutely gorgeous ❤️ especially love “The waves are
soft, a memory of sea wind afternoons, when sails were filled, and children played” and oh “I walk across the meadow and return to sleep beside you.To remain in stillness in this almost lack of movement.” Beautifully penned❤️
Lots of love,
Sanaa
I love the circular movement of this poem, Björn, the way we return to the ‘almost lack of movement’, and the image in the lines:
‘…The waves are
soft, a memory of sea wind afternoons, when sails were
filled, and children played.’
The long lapping wavelike rhythms of this lull toward the perfect final line. (The final pic nails it too.) We aren’t afforded more than “almost” in any of our reaches for the divine, up or down, in or out. It’s a reassuring statement, friend, for those of us who want to get there but can’t quite.
Beautiful words Björn.
“… there is nothing quite as still as a Nordic, summer night filled with light.” What a beautiful experience this must be.
Kind regards
Anna :o]
To remain in stillness in this almost lack of movement… just beautiful!
your “still point in a turning world” reads like a salve for the soul – sensational and intriguing structure too
You capture that still moment of introspection which keeps us sane so well, Bjorn–take us there and bring us back our thirst for stillness quenched. I love the use of ‘buccaneering’ here, and the sense of comfort that comes with homecoming.
I feel a sense of peacefulness here. Remaining a while in stillness sounds like the thing to do right now.
This feels like a dream to me–a meditation, a time in worshipful quiet as well as lack of motion, the kind wherein we feel the movement of earth and the firmament. Gosh. Wow. Thank you.
Evoking the stillness makes it real to the reader. I love “the meadow
sparkled, dewed” and the noticing the importance of observing stillness.
I admire how your lines are moving in this one, so connected by commas and long lines. Makes it feel slow, like the moment.
What a beautiful moment of stillness this is. When the heart is full, of beauty and of love.
Whoa, You nailed this one! Bravo 🙂
This reads like guided meditation. I can close my eyes and see it–feel it–happening. I love how the movements are like inhaling and exhaling and the still moment in between.
A beautiful stillness of soul balanced between yearning and contentment.
To remain in stillness in this almost lack of movement.
How bewitching to think of the stillness that movements appeared apparently reduced
Hank
Wonderful words – so soft and melodious – played with such eloquence to that sublime close,
? “from the dark side” ? is that Pink Floyd you listen to? Waving to you, ya.
From the dark side of the moon 🙂
Watching and listening to the waves is sooo calming. Being in a hammock in the shade on a hot summer day by the sea may put one to sleep, it has for me.
..
This has a dream quality the desire for movement or stillness is up to interpretation, but in the end there is peace in what you have found.
Whata glorious poem this is Bjorn and brought to mind some halcyon younger days living by the sea.
A beautiful poem!
A meadow walk, stopping to listen to water, and then returning to one’s beloved—sounds like a perfect day!
I think with this one you managed to convey the esoteric part of stillness.
I love this I can feel the stillness. The need to breathe so softly. Thank you…bkm
Ahhhh!
awesome prose poem!
there’s an almost dreamy feel to it. as if you had wandered around, but not left the starting spot at all.
This brought me a bit of piece. I so needed it.