Saturday morning
November mist in my face.
Oaks stand on rolling KY hillsides bare
as strippers, their leaves g-strings,
tossed on a stage. The wind, a
John, whistles across the black sky.
I walk to the creek; trace
a brown stone with my finger; & stare
into the water. A finch sings
as tho it is May.
In your eye,
once, a place
such as this, I dare
say, I saw the transparent wings
of a
darting, multi-colored dragonfly.
Author notes
Written November 11th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Revisiting. It's very interesting to see the poet's mind at work in his revisions. Thanks for sharing as it develops.
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I also meant to add a few words about the uncovering being like a poem... You have captured the idea without sentiment. I like that.
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Good reply.
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I'm glad you like the revision. I appreciate your insights into such things as strippers, leaves, November, eyes, & dragonflies. There is nothing wrong with liking strippers. Just ask one...
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I like the revision. I've read the poem many times since you posted it.
I like strippers which I know is probably odd for a female heterosexual to say but I can't help it, I do. I like Oaks too. Both are what they are and there is a sense of freedom and strength and honest Beauty (my word of the week I think) in them.
The uncovering is very much like what Poetry is about sometimes -- though usually through veils or mists but sometimes straight on. Odd how it all works isn't it?
I think some of your words prompted my latest poem as happens sometimes. A different vision, I had of leaves while driving around my town but November and leaves none the less.
Dragonflies are awfully special too. So are eyes.
It has grown on me, this one.
Lisa
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Yes, dark & nostalgic, but now changed, with a third stanza & more subtle rhyme to give it form...
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Thanks for the rose & the feeling that Oaks/strippers was apt...
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I am pleased that you would think so...
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Lute,
I change the entire poem on Monday morning. Thanks for the suggestions, your perception... -
good poem, rudy. I agree with zara about the fresh and evocative description of the oaks. not sure if I agree with lute on written across the eyes. but I know this poem is darkly nostalgic and poignant. I FEEL that in it.
~travis
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Your description of the oaks is probably the most evocative and fresh I've ever seen. Perfect.
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A soft shudder of joy
Breathtakingly beautiful.
Myra -
Lute mostly not think of Oak trees as strippers.
find written across your eyes
remember written across your eyes,
(reinforces "memory")
Hmmm. Mebbe:
I remember
written in your eyes.
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