© G.V. 12-12-2012 All rights reserved
This is a revised version of my initial "bergamot" poem, posted on Soup back in May.
and post notes and photos about your poem.
The ridge beyond defined his scopes;
in his Elysian fields both laugh'd;
the distance smil'd and maybe ask'd
if one could rise beyond the slopes.
A climber walk'd above the ridge,
where nothing was but white thin clouds,
a bergamot and his mind's doubts,
have pass'd across his soul's time bridge.
The climber saw the clouds disperse,
in air the town was hung, and Halls
with dancers' smiling saddened souls
defined the image, strange and terse.
Amid the dancers, courtly laced,
a graceful Princess smiled at him,
the bergamot was there to hint
that this transmittance was space-braced.
Beyond the ridge, white Angels roam'd
(or were the clouds that turned to rain?)
the bergamot sang a refrain,
upon the slopes the dancers domed.
('The climber jumps above the ridge,
the climber laughs while dancers bow,
the splendid waltz transmits their glow,
a Princess waits upon time's bridge.')
Unspoken was she and the crags,
returned the bergamot's refrain;
Oh, her beatitude's soft rain,
washed down the slopes the verse he sang.
© 12-12-2012 G. Venetopoulos All rights reserved