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Nearly Home

The storm now past, the dark clouds drift away,
Unveiling tranquil skies at end of day,
Whose cheering beams imbue the gathering gloam
And my own heart with peace, as I walk home.

The hours of labor fled, I heave a sigh,
And give a nod to all who pass me by:
The bobby strolling on his evening beat
At easy pace along the lamp-lit street,

The workmen as they leave the noisy pub,
The women toting groceries home for grub,
The children playing hopscotch in the park,
Whose parents watch them in the growing dark.

I hear their giddy voices fill the air
And note the scent of ash is everywhere,
As plumes of smoke from chimney pots arise,
Swept by a cooling breeze into the skies.

There, evening swallows silently fly by
In graceful arcs that span the dimming sky,
While down below, in puddles that I pass,
The twilight gleams in sheets of shattered glass.

The priceless quiet of this peaceful dusk,
More rare than jade or any ivory tusk,
Will live on, with its power to spellbind,
Ïn memory’s eye, forever there enshrined.

And when, upon a sweet, idyllic eve,
I hear God call, I’ll gladly take my leave,
Content to know I’ve reached my journey’s end,
And home awaits me, just around the bend.

.

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Martin Rizley grew up in Oklahoma and in Texas, and has served in pastoral ministry both in the United States and in Europe. He is currently serving as the pastor of a small evangelical church in the city of Málaga on the southern coast of Spain, where he lives with his wife and daughter. 

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7 Responses

  1. Daniel Howard

    Charming alliteration on ‘l’ in:

    “And when, upon a sweet, idyllic eve,
    I hear God call, I’ll gladly take my leave […]”

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thanks for your feedback, Daniel. I hadn´t realized that the “i” in idyllic can be pronounced with a long “i”; but several dictionaries I consulted agreed that both pronunciations are permissible. So if I ever read it aloud on some occasion, I will pronounce “idyllic” with a long “i”, which as you point out, creates a nice alliterative effect.

      Reply
  2. Brian Yapko

    This is a truly lovely and moving poem, Martin, about strolling through the November of life. It isn’t necessarily a period piece but the language and images subtly evoke an earlier age which somehow feels fitting to the subject. The lamp-lit streets and the chimney pots, for example. The gloam, the bobby, the playing of hopscotch, the jade, the ivory tusk. It all feels like a distant memory of the past and I found myself reading this as if it were a Victorian-era poem. The poem’s brevity serves it well and it’s “out of time” feel gives the piece a certain universality. I love the observations, the sentiment and the cheerful stroll towards the last of this earthly life knowing that God awaits. It is truly a wonderful poem.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thank you so much, Brian, for your appreciative comments. The decidedly British imagery in the poem– with bobbies, chimney pots, pubs, etc.– is owing to the fact that I was moved to write the poem in response to a lovely painting of the same name by a British painter named Craig Everett. You can see that painting here: https://www.facebook.com/profile/100064499777898/search/?q=Craig%20Everett
      The paintings of the Victorian era landscape artist, John Atkinson Grimshaw, may also have been in my mind´s eye as I wrote the poem, which would explain its “out of time” feel. Grimshaw even has a painting entitled “Going Home at Dusk.”

      Reply
  3. Paul A. Freeman

    An interesting mix of imagery, Martin. I recall as a boy running up the road to see when the chimney sweep’s brush popped out the top of the chimney being swept (The chimney sweep wasn’t Dick Van Dyke!). I also recall the last beat policeman in the town I lived in as a boy, and the village bobby in the village I lived in in the 80s.

    I get a Wordsworth, ‘Daffodils’ vibe from the last two stanzas. It works very well as a wrap to your poem that brings back vivid memories.

    Thanks for the read.

    Reply
  4. Martin Briggs

    I really enjoyed this, Martin, and it repays repeated readings. Brian (above) has already used the term “period piece”, which is exactly how it strikes me. The third and (particularly) fourth stanzas evoke for me the industrial north of England where I mostly grew up. The whole breathes tranquillity and a calm resignation. Thank you.

    Reply
  5. Paulette Calasibetta

    Martin, your cinematic imagery imbues a deep sense of appreciation for the small things that create a fulfilled life. Your powerful last stanza reflects the sense of serenity, as the last chapter of life is so eloquently written.

    Reply

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