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when you were young

when you were young
did you ever lay down in the back of a ute
as mum and dad drove up the drive
and you slid your hands over the edge
to massage the dirt below
billowy clouds arose
of dust and ash
they rose like giants, men and kings
and fuck it was beautiful

at twilight when the last rays of light
pierced the trees
the dust would transform
into a light show
of orange, pink and red
I could have died in that very moment
it was something more
it had some unexplainable
unattainable beauty
that i search for to this day

I’ll always remember the clouds

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


Turner skies....there is a western painter..included clouds..
most people get busy...are self aware
or never did get to watch clouds or have idle moments

A geat poem to the ode of that...
W.O Mitchell loved his wind..Mowat the animals ..Atwood
the depths of nature of human psyche..

The use of massage was great..
like a conjurer mixing elements
the dust is fine..

The last line I like
although Im always trying to end
with a ponder
in my own which is hard

"It's the clouds of which I remember

"I remember most, The clouds.."

"Most of all...The clouds I cannot
forget. nor ever shall"

"'l'll always remember those clouds"

however upon re reading your works
I like how it goes from the low key
to the height and back to the low
key again

so what do I know!

I read it..I liked it much!
Thank You!

or skinned hands and fingers would be par for the day ....

I like this - it brings memories of things I did as a kid (but I never hung over the back of a ute while it was going, and played in the dust, I might say lol - I reckon that would be a boy thing - I can imagine my brother or male cousins doing this)

I would suggest that you make a slight change to the wording and the tense of the first stanza....
'and slide you hands over the edge
to massage the dirt below
billowy clouds of dust and ash
would rise like giants...'

I like the tone of this write - the recoĺlection of childhood games, and the wish to regain that ineffable innocence
- thanks for sharing
love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

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