Matt Kindelmann Poet Blank verse

The Dam Broke In Quebec

The dam broke in Quebec.
My thoughts,
my words, 
and my pen
all moved.
Moved like the thin layer 
of brackish water
over the icy depths
of le Fleave St. Laurent.
Moved like the evening breeze
over the cobblestoned streets
past the lighted shops’ doors.
Moved like the flags flying 
over le Chateau Frontenac
as the high winds whip.
The French 
from the tongues of
the waitresses
and bartenders
and patrons,
and the strums and songs of 
the brickwall guitarist,
all worked as white noise,
and the glasses of wheat beer,
the plate of white cheese and 
cold red grapes,
and the warm amber candles, 
were all sustenance to the soul
to move my pen across the notebook
and break the dam.

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Vicky Tsiluma February 12, 2014 at 9:35 AM Wow Matt! Your use of imagery is great. I love how the dam breaking can be equated to both the physical and emotional breaking of the dam. And it's point on that the pen and notebook would have a hand at breaking the dam - words are powerful enough and they do effect action. Well penned.