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Dew of the sea

Rosemary
tastes of something ancient;
an earthy comfort, familiar
like the aroma of frankincense
rising off white-hot charcoal.

Woody branches
scratch at my soul; beckon me
back to the old world, where
tradition and superstition
meld into religion.

I slip rosemary
under your pillow; sprays
of blue flowers
quell nightmares that
threaten your dreams.

One sprig for love; one sprig
for remembrance.


    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments

1 - 5 of 5

  • LeeStone
    August 22
    Edit | Reply
    I really like the feeling that this invokes. Very well done. I enjoyed it very much.

    Lee Stone


  • maria
    May 5

    Edit | Reply
    I really like this, Helen. I'd suggest to drop the four isolated words though. The ending is dreamy and works well.


    • pangur ban
      May 6
      Edit | Reply
      Your suggestion is a good one. The poem flows much better without those four words. Thank you, Maria!

  • poetrynovice
    April 17
    Edit | Reply
    I can smell the rosemary now; one of favorite herbs. Very nice imagery.


  • Kendal Palmer gold member
    April 17

    Edit | Reply
    very romantic and mysterious...this is the stuff poetry is made of...you captured that well in this piece. I like the idea of sleeping with rosemary under your pillow...thanks for sharing...keep up the great work. peace to you always in all ways...
    -Kendal

1 - 5 of 5