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FUSCIA
tangle in the wind
his dreams and hopes
like steam
as mists
and covered in the light veil
of rain
in his brow
on his beard
his misses the turbid
moments
off the north sea
pulling on the oars
they glide in the swells
cupped by the hand of
the ocean
there is hope today
soothed by mead
by lamb
and laughter
(the fuscia dawn
arrived pulled straight
from dreams to a kick
on his boots....awake
beneath the skins..
but he was there...
in her arms..the quiet
one...the seer...she
read him and told him
because she loved him
and he puzzled...read
her..the gifts his father
had.....)
Editing stage:
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Comments
eightmenout
Thu, 2013-03-21 23:51
Honestly
I don't want to critique the poem. I would love to just get into a conversation with you on your inspiration and thought process in creating the poem. Please respond if you are game.
Scott
loved
Fri, 2013-03-22 12:18
YOU excell as always
all poetry is imagination
of ones mind
based on ones
circumstance
environment
and
heredity
oh man
you are one unique one
as much as I am..
two Canadiens side by side
stood
and
understood..
no two poetries should be alike
this is the essence of modern poetry..
my friendly man
and you are
W O N D E R F U L Lllllllllllllllllll
loved
Geremia
Fri, 2013-03-22 13:57
Steven, t his is magnificent
Steven, t his is magnificent poetry.
joe