Friday 29 May 2009

A Spring

evening stills;

trees - wetted with rain -

stand and face a  purple sun.

 

Listen to calls

pulse - a swell of birds

flickering nuances

cooing, echoing

beating little hearts

 

(inside my skull

I also am wittering and twittering)

 

Overhead; leaves lurch

wave on turning ocean wave

beckoning light: moving church,

urging Nature, lusting life.


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7 comments:

  1. david2 February 2012 at 04:49

    love this. terse, and fresh as wet paint.

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  2. Unknown29 November 2012 at 20:39

    Love the short, sharp imagery of the words chosen. Very good indeed.

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  3. Cliff Letts3 April 2013 at 22:15

    I feel the desperation and the frustration between the tortured spaces

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  4. Unknown27 February 2014 at 17:29

    This is marvelous. It left me emotionally moved, brought there by the beautifully express sensuality and detail.

    Carl Sharpe, VerseWrights

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  5. Unknown14 March 2014 at 10:23

    J'aime cette belle Poésie, fraîche et romantique
    Like your Poétry with romantic touch
    Michel Sulpin France

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  6. Jimmy Kopelia17 May 2014 at 10:18

    I Love it, great poem

    ReplyDelete
  7. ann.wilson3942@gmail.com23 September 2014 at 19:33

    Lovely, descriptive poem, enjoyed the read.

    ReplyDelete