Ditch the ads, upload images and much more - upgrade today from 5.95/month!
Read • Contests • Groups • Learn • Forums • Store • Help
 

A cloudless whisper

 

 

 

 

 

Under  the gentle breeze
that smells a little
of ripe fruit
fallen bravely
somewhere beneath bare feet
and Sunday afternoons ~

there’s a soft silver lining
that drips over golden paper
into my September garden,  
reminding me
of apple peel and daffodils
that sneak silently
upon artistic lashes

as I blink
and take a deeper breath
where the air is full
like freshly washed clothes
that hang upside down
before the sun sinks
inside her own memory...

Author notes

Prompt ~ Late September

A contest entry

Please tell me what you think

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    • Line numbers  • Invite them to read
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments

1 - 5 of 5

  • bird at rose
    July 7, 2008

    Edit | Reply

    Harvesting at your own personal speed is so delicious

    This is a tremendous folder at whatever "Late September" may lead you to remember, and hope for the future month again. Your first stanza is so relaxing, and even if it's a slice of slightly cooler wind, it's worth the aroma floating with it. Compared to some summer nearby, dairies lol. I laughed at just reading the line, "that smells a little," but it causes interest and sniffing until you quickly match it with complete juiciness, not from a blender. The innocence, which you always try to spurt something about within week days, shows a run-free yet still in limits lifestyle.

    Lines seven and eight are like a highlight for previous Spring desserts, both to the eyes, excitement and fresh tastes finished in season. I think it is also poetic, that as the newly-angled sunlight is bright just as once before, popping a recall... like a catch-tray for all the slurps and many more things. Perked am I by your use of magnified imagery in, "that sneak silently upon artistic lashes," this is what you're on close watch for, and so the memories are so fond it's as if you raised your eyes for such clapping.

    Wow, in the ending I find a pointed loveliness of an un-interrupted humidity, you want to take all of it in, yet that glimpse of daylight is falling earlier; clean garments / then dirty kinda thing. It's as an hour-glass, turned upright. Positivity is what we all should be inclined to, and in poetry "inside her own memory," we all are looking for when you grab a situation to get used to, and now it falls in place.

    Keep writing trophy worthy and hopefully reality like this one, congratulations on silver!
    Daisy


  • tara wilson gold member
    June 8, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    "like freshly washed clothes
    that hang upside down
    before the sun sinks
    inside her own memory..."

    Oh, I love this...very beautiful & a crisp coolnes..congrats on the silver..


  • Namita
    June 4, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Haunting and beautiful... a piece that speaks very mysteriously... good luck in the contest; thanks for writing your September poem.

    Namita


  • Malabu
    May 16, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    this is beautiful

    Mal


  • zochit2me gold member
    May 3, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    this is breathtakinly beautiful.
    Soft and yet haunting at the same time.

    Becky

1 - 5 of 5