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Spring Caprice

Spring lightning.
Dawn reveals snowy peaks,
disrobing pastures.
Threads of rain reflect rainbows
between lakes and heart-shaped hills.
I dream that you touch my hand
as we move, side by side;
spirals ebb and flow
through galactic tides.
I awaken on a bed of tender leaves.

Spring’s caprice
draws aureoles on the lake.
I gather shells
sculptured by water nymphs.
My fingers draw dimples on sandbanks.
Stroking algae, moss,
tasting froth in hollows of my treasures,
I carry them home,
but they forget their beauty on the beach
under showers of incandescent rain.
You are waiting for me.

I lie in the shade
of a blossoming apple-tree.
I listen to concerts of insects;
swift hummingbirds sip
nectar from buds.
A dogrose thrusts roots
deep into the earth,
dropping petals from its branches
between my thighs.
I taste dewdrops on my tongue
and enjoy your naked body,
loving me.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
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Comments

Hi, Gracy,
This is sweetly sensual, and I will confess right away that I am uncertain if the relationship is with nature, particularly Spring, or another person (you've tenderly mentioned your husband in a few poems) or both. It feels like both, so please forgive me if I am incorrect. It feels innocent, but familiar. Almost like a dream, but somehow even better. So sweet.
Thank you,
L

Hi Lavender, well, it was one of those youthful loves one has now and then. I tried to relate Nature to the blossoming of that early love. You know, metaphorically. Like when the dogrose digs deep roots in the ground...lol.
I'm glad you think it's sweet. You encourage me with your comments, as usual. You're correct, it's Spring, because love supposedly is brewing in that season, or so goes the tradition.
Thanks for coming round, as always with gentle interpretations. All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

sensual and yet earthy. I have just a couple of little crits.
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I think it would be better if you said; [Disrobing], instead of disrobe?
.
I'm not sure of how you would lie beneath the shade? Maybe you could say:
I lie [in] the shade of...?
Just a couple of little things, but I think that it may make the poem a bit smoother.
Altogether, a great poem that gives a look at a lazy afternoon. Nice! ~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Thank you, Gee, you're right. I'll correct those bits right away. You always point out my errors.
I'm grateful for that, all the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Gee, I've corrected my errors and did another tweak. All good and so grateful for your help. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

You have shown me a lot with your work. I have been inspired by your efforts. You are a bonus to this site.
~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Dear Teddy, yes, apple trees were all over the farm, but I had my favorite one, in a secluded area. Young and innocent love, of course, but seen from an older perspective. I would never have thought much about it then, things just happened!
I'm so glad you like the imagery and my words, all the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

reading certain lines of this piece fives me the same effect of meditating away from all life chores.
I am happy I didn't miss it.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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Hi Rula, yes, I suppose it has a meditating effect. Perhaps it was born of meditation. I used to attend a poetry meditation group. We lay on mats on the floor and the guide led us on a tour of thoughts by saying a few lines. From there we had to complete the thoughts that came randomly to our minds. We had notebooks and candles to jot down a few words or even lines. Afterwards we chatted and helped eachother with some lines, but basically we returned home and "slapped" the lines on our computer. When one comes back, the words make sense you can begin to shape it into a poem. It was fun!
Excuse my rambling on, just wanted to acknowledge that what you say is true in my case. All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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