© G.V. 12-12-2012 All rights reservedThis is a revised version of my initial "bergamot" poem, posted on the Soup back in May.
The ridge beyond defined his scopes;
on his Elysian fields both laughed;
white smile of roses while she asked,
if she could stare at him on slopes.
A climber walked beyond the ridge,
where nothing was but white thin clouds,
a bergamot and his mind's doubts,
have passed across his soul's time bridge.
The climber watched clouds' forms disperse,
in air the town was hung, and Halls
with dancers' smiling saddened souls,
- defined the image, brief 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 roamed
(or were the clouds that turned to rain?)
the bergamot sang a refrain,
on slopes cloud dancers only 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 his verses sung.
© G.V. 12-12-2012 All rights reserved