Wood smoke
scents the
winter breeze.
Evening fades
from red to night
so we bump start
the bike
and roar down
scaring through
the silent town
for a few beers.
Tonight is
just like that
but
forty years on
and someone new
roaring.
Pietermaritzburg, 1968 - everyone has a golden age?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
It's interesting but a single prose sentence (if interesting enough) can often make a cute little poem. Or two, with a bit of luck. I should know. So does Edna (a mutual friend I think).
-
I'm reminded of many a night when I could hear that roar - or a similar roar of course.
There are just enough details in this to make it vivid. There are not so many details in this to overdo a single description. I can imagine the wood smoke - it reminds me very much of how it hangs in my hair in the winter when I help with the stove in my cousin's house. -- for the simple remembrances this poem brings to mind, I think it's a great poem.
I liked this one a lot!
Kim
-
I had to read this again
I love it so much - coz I think I wrote it. If you know what I mean. xx debs xx -
a golden age
Yes darlin - my 30's was mine. You took me right back in the first stanza. BUT life is so different now. I have to live in my head.
-
-
think I stole your woodsmoke!!
Maybe if we write poems we burn wood. In all sorts of ways. Could we take a poll? What happened to the AP poll??!! I utterly loved this as I already said in another life. Just wanted to refresh my mind. xx um er chillers oops xx ps how's velcronic?. Not seen her lately. I fancy her something rotten!!! xx brioche xx
-
-
yeah, we get older don't we? good to see you here vic- this is classic you - with a brevity and conciseness of language (is conciseness a word?)
at any rate- nice to see you here.
m
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
