Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Stretch of Land

Here they are standing aloof on the backside of town
Here they are sitting on the bare, stricken ground
with strange smells filtering all around.

Smells that fill the atmosphere with an awful stench.
disgusting smells, horrible smells coalesce with
burning incense and perfume to conceal the terrible odor.

Here they are with their self made army
sipping  a bottle of dry whiskey
weapon in hand trousers girt tight
ready and waiting to fight.

This night the north wind blows furiously through villages and
towns, tearing down barricade, overturning powerful trees
sending derbies flying as far as six feet in the air.
They stood and watch from a mutual spot
occasionally running for cover each time
the wind gets close to their border.

They waited anxiously for this night to cease but
the turbulence agitated them and kept them on their feet.
I saw them pacing back and forth unable to bare the
cold that penetrated their intoxicated soul.

Amidst the raging wind I obtained comfort from within,
I located a quite place in a hole where I could sing,
and hide away from the infuriated and vicious wind.
I meander away quietly in a deep sleep and later
appeared on an extensive stretch of fertile land.

There I was walking peacefully on this vast land
an immense land filled with mango trees
trees whose branches were laden with different species of mangos.
Among them were mango trees that were filled with blossom.
The blooming trees smiled at me with intense glory.

Green mangos of contrasting shapes and sizes hang humbly
from the encumbered branches creating a tranquil atmosphere.
I walked around composedly and admired their awesome beauty
and absorb the magnificent scenery that filtered beyond the land.
I faded slowly into day break and plunged into a harmonious atmosphere.


                                                                            ©2014 Christine Phillips

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