the squall line
was passing over corn fields,
blanch reeds that belong in an ocean,
swaying to the sea- like imitation
of trespass offering. you left me like a cloud,
the only settler in a village.
we were the story of jamestown; a purple
night that cleared as sure as mornings do; relieving promises,
security. i was a child at a door, swabbed and hungry. cold,
and weaned. alone.
the squall line moved itself,
a deluge left itself. and the only thing that mattered
was the coarse, wet grey cement
that told it all.
A contest entry
- closes tonight by Melissa Gayle.
300 points, ended August 16, 2007, 9 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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squall..like that word too, lol. Excellent write, a much deserved gold.
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very very nice- congrats on gold.. well deserved..
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thank you very much.
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I really like this one. A lot. Reminds me of "hallucinations," which is one of my favorites of yours.
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haha, i just love the word squall.
awesome job, as always.
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beautiful.
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you are a true master of words. theres something so new and innovative about everything you write. i may end up priniting out your entire archive and reading it before i start up work of my won.
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thanks man.
i was actually happy with this one for a change.
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