Like a drink
from the creek that ran
longways across
the tobacco field
flash of foam
careening
downstream;
he caught a frog that summer
large as his palm
chased me around the old hickory
half in, half out
the water.
Blue shirt, a slick skin;
his kisses were where
perennials
meet winter's end
fresh and peppermint, a coursing spring
behind the old homestead.
working on it, still.
Comments
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his kisses were where
perennials
meet winter's end
fresh and peppermint
Well, as many here will attest, I am not one for the 'luv' pomes out there, lol, however, as I've been recently semi-domesticated by such a harsh taskmaster, lol, I find this piece harmfully sweet. However, even if I were not gilded in these sentiments, I'd still find this poem fresh and clean of pretentious or forced artistry. Indeed, this is almost like how memories should be...quick, captivating and ever lingering.
Really lovely stuff.
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You have some wonderful sensory images and fragrances in this poem. I enjoyed that element a lot and noticed suddenly how it tends to be missing from poetry these days.
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that sounds like a delightful memory.
I hope it was!
nice work
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I like the image you've painted here. I think everyone remembers a summer romance... 'course in hine sight it was more hormones than romance but you couldn't tell us that back then. We were too caught up in the moments (plural).
Good job,
John
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I like this. I like how 'there' you take me. I know I say strange things sometimes, but it is as if I was there.
And it is good to see you writing
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LOL I understand completely. It's the "there" I wanted to go, myself.
I wouldn't call this writing as much as attacking the boredom. My game's down right now.
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