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Gemini Lost
first verse - very good
"where Zues' son makes play.
I take it you mean Zeus
I suspect wisdom comes with menopause. When we no longer need to be bothered with the whole impregnation thing then we can afford to be wise and say, "I told you so."I seem to find your writing evocative. I find I want to write something after reading your poetry
I like the line to 'mute your style with motherhood', says alot. I suppose that motherhood would also bring wisdom???
Appalachian Synesthesia
The french horn shakes my sides and climbs
my arms to my shoulders in a palm glide
over my skin.
A flute, with it's haunting hollow
whistle, shakes my flesh and then the ring
of a triangle strike taps my nipple
and lifts those miniscule follicles
into a bumpy exclamation of joy.
Then you tease every inch of my breast
with strings.
The bass note of drum and cello
disturbs the stability of my bones
and when you introduce violin
and viola, I must close my eyes
against the tears welling free
around the orbs of my sight,
and beg silence from the visual
cortex blinding me to sensation.
With blood singing through my carotid
arteries and heating up my skull,
the hair stirs on my nape and releases
waves of endorphin and oxytocin.
Too soon, the pleasure of the melody
woven by an orchestra makes me smile
and cry, beyond concious control
such that I can barely restrain
my voice from lifting in song.
So here I sit in the forests that shade
the feet of the ancient slopes the majesty
of youth faded smooth. Time has gentled
high spires into rounded and treed rises.
Now I am content to know and feel the sound
of fresh water flowing; satisfying my thirst
with the beauty of an Appalachian Spring.
(Inspired while listening to the Boston Symphony conducted by composer Aaron Copeland play his Appalachian Spring)
I don't even need the music to feel the ripple of flesh, as goose bumps raise the flesh and awe is found in the intonations of balance and harmony.
Summer Children
You stood in the door yard
and yelled our names chronologically,
eldest to youngest. The chickens,
scratching in the pen, the hard packed dirt
path to the stable and the geese hissing
a warning to the unwary, who come
empty-handed to check for eggs.
These colour my youth like the brilliant
reds of geraniums and the sugary scent
of lilac bushes all planted strategically.
to thwart the breeze from dropping
the stink of pig pen and outhouse
on the window sill looking out over
the back pasture. An acre of freedom
for the calf, the ponies and the dogs.
We ran freely out there, too!
Unimpeded by adult disapproval,
our shirts tied around our heads
to keep the blackflies from tangling
in our hair, sticks carried like javelins
as we beat a path through the nettles
and finally hid from the sun inside
the shade of the hazelnut bushes
beside the deep, cool spring well.
We were like what our whitewashed
lives painted our aboriginal neighbours
to be. Riding appaloosa ponies, raiding
trading posts and stealing guns, women
and whiskey. Why? We didn't know,
but that's how it's done in movies.
The excitement of going to the lake
without adult supervision, the burden
of responsibility falling on the oldest
sibling and the big Alsatian dog
to shepherd us and keep us safe.
The terror of not getting home
in time when we heard the car horn
blasting the same pattern as the party
line phone ring; one long, two short.
A switch across the back of bare thigh
was the burning impetus to arrive
breathless, damp from our swim,
and hungry for garden vegetables,
fresh bread, cow's milk and ham.
I remember curling up like puppies
in the middle of a big double bed,
all the girls in one, all the boys
in the bunk beds, sleeping the rest
of the truly played out child
Oh thank you! Do have a listen though. The entire piece is beautiful but the allegra portion is what sent me poetry
Oh my.
Thank you. True story and damn that switch was not applied lightly either. It's a mark of how tired and how worried our gran was I think. But it was always tempered with a bit of chocolate on shopping day.Oh my.
A pui a pui.. (see the poem sonate ad libitum for violin for more cuss words.)Im too working class ingrained for such beauty, i'll take some acdc a shot of tequila and a soft body to raise goosebumps
Allegra......are you swearing at me
Thank you Harry and todski.Agreed