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Click hereStop just like so
for a moment your silhouette
above me, a ridge
against what goes for zenith
when solstice is hailing
from a distant horizon.
Stop, Alejo, and inhale,
remove your fingers from my hair
to touch other roots,
and your whispers from my ear
so I can savour the full and the whole
of a day rebound
but running out
rapidly.
The scent of a summer
clings on by white knuckles,
it's panic of impending season length fall
folds the air into fragments.
Days roll,
persistent caress
plunders comfort out of every wisp
that once hummed melodic,
with sand breeze blowing Crete closer.
Now only whispers
and clay.
Alejo,
did you listen like you sometimes do?
The sparrows were silent
and even leaves rustled more carefully.
As if suddenly aware
of their mayfly destiny,
huddling from the mark
of another daybreak.
I know you say no wonder,
all has been before
and will unfold anew each year.
But Alejo, tell me this;
how many summers can you send to sleep,
before your own knuckles are too white
to hold on
and the sparrow in your heart
stops singing?
version.
I like this version too.
You have a wonderful style. You need to post here more so people get used to it
: )
I love this:
~The scent of a summer
clings on by white knuckles,
it's panic of impending season length fall
folds the air into fragments.~
That's whats happening here right now.
Glad to see you back and I love your work
Thank you
is beautiful, but if you had stopped here-
The scent of a summer
clings on by white knuckles,
it's panic of impending season length fall
folds the air into fragments.
it would have been wonderful as well. That one verse is a poem by itself :)
If Alejo is supposed to be a famous person I don't get that part of it, but the images here of summer on the precipice and youthful sparrow song are beautiful! Wonderful poetry, Randi.
...but the first two verses didn't seem to equal the music of the balance of the poem. There are nice images, but the line breaks seemed a little arbitrary. Consider this passage, (which I have "rebroken"):
"Days roll, persistent caress
plunders comfort out of every wisp
that once hummed melodic,
with sand breeze blowing Crete closer."
The poem is too strong to let the reader stumble.
It reminds me very much of Angeline's writing.
Your poem is mentioned on the new poems thread.
*no thermometer