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July 1st

July starts.
Good morning.
In the flower foam
bees are hiding
drunk and strong.

July starts.
In the leafy shade
there is a nest where
warm wind sleeps with rain.
Don't wake them up.
Let's go for a walk first
to the black hills
and tall cornfields.

Remember last time ?
We were lost.
In the Little Benet it was.

I was thirsty,
you offered me
a handful of blackberries.
And I ate half of them
directly from your palm.

I touched the berries
with my lips.
They felt smooth
and unexpectedly cool.

Not much juice,
mostly seeds,
I loved the sour taste.
It was refreshing.

We made a big loop
around the woods
and went through
unruly heath,
the former
tobacco field.
We saw a rabbit...

The other half?
You mean, the berries?
Oh, yes,
I keep it in my heart.

July 2017

Last few words: 
I hope you enjoy, one of my summer poems as a reminder of a warmer and sunnier days. They do exist and many more are waiting to come.
Editing stage: 


01 July
if it's your Birthday
then Okay
BUT today it's 30 Nov
next comes 01 December
how do you fit in Julius Caesar
to whom the Zodiac attributes as Cancer
are you a Cancerian
Dear lady.

Do now play about /upon my latest poetry

I have the same exact feeling in this poem as your last- it opens with poetry, draws you in, then goes off in a small story which reads like it is really prose, then returns to very strong poetic ending..keeping the berries in your heart. So I think the prose part should be in prose, as mixing poetry and prose in a poem are an interesting modern mix.

These words are charged, and gets us into the poem with alliteration and wonderful image of the bees, hiding in the foam, drunk on pollen:

July starts.
Good morning.
In the flower foam
bees are hiding
drunk and strong.

Compare that to:

I touched the berries
with my lips.
They felt smooth
and unexpectedly cool.

There's no poetic magic this stanza...but it works as prose.
Or, you could play around with the stanza and make us taste those berries with poetic image. It's hard work. In poetry, more than prose, every word counts.
I love the last stanza. That mix of images, keeping the berries in the heart, that is poetry.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Thank you for your input.
It gives me a fresh perspective and food for thought.
Going off line for a few days.


author comment

What a clever and beautiful piece. This past summer I had numerous blackberry experiences and I could almost taste them again. I just loved that you divided them in two to put a fine finish to this piece.


Thank you very much for reading not to mention commenting and liking the write.
What even greater that you lived again the blackberry experience. Don't you think it is possible to save moments in poems like leaves in the herbarium?
I am a collector of all kind of precious nonsense. And I am simply happy to share them at the time when they would feel the most different. Like this hot summer day in today's gloomy afternoon


author comment

Although I felt the whole thing was a tad prosaic until that last stanza. That was magic and brought the whole poem to life for me.

It's almost like 'Chekov's Gun'. You know the term? Chekov said something like 'if your character puts a gun in a drawer in the first act you better make sure he uses it by the third act.'
And I ate half of them
directly from your palm.
Without that last stanza we would just assume you shared them.

A new incentive for critique, description at
discussion at

Hey Jess!
You are reading them one by one!
How exciting.
Yes prose and simple words were used to prepare for the poetic word HEART.
I am usually afraid to use poetic words.
They are stripped of meaning and overused.
So one needs to prepare the reader, or somehow find a trick to make an old word to shine again.


author comment
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