boat plummets water
water sprays heavy on face
lake becomes serene
conversations caught -
in soft focus impressionist
I've posted a piece that's longer than the poetry section allows.
called: boating
In the "Short Story" section.
I know I could take things out - to make the piece shorter and force it to fit in the poems section - but that length seems arbitrary *shrug*
Here's the URL:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/boating_10592
If you bother, I hope you like it!
leaving port in a storm
the not so swift
family robinson
(Re old poems)
The luncheon of French bourgeoisie under frilly striped awning.
Young fair maiden, rosy cheeks- beguiling her eyes; leans on the railing.
Amidst fruits and undrunk wine in amorous air strokes dog, a wife.
Men look askance in yellow straw hats, faces muse in blazing whites.
Quivering tints alive on a terrace, evolve in sunbathed human life.
``
Based on Auguste Renoir's painting - ''Luncheon of the Boating Party''
I got a part-time job
of which i"m very fond.
It is down at the South Inch
at the local boating pond.
I help to sell the tickets
and call out when they"re done,
and in this sunny weather
it really is quite fun.
There are fifteen rowing boats
and paddlers if you must,
but there are no sailing dinghy"s
the wind here does not gust.
The job it needs attention,
you have a pen and book.
To keep track of everybody,
and you have to look...
to see that all is well
and no one misbehaves.
The waters only three foot deep
but their life you"d have to save.
But on one Saturday,
the pond was really busy
so much going on
my head was really dizzy.
I looked into my book.
What is a man to do.
I could not hurry time
there will always be a queue.
"Number six your time is up"
I called with little choice.
Then looked across the water
as they ignored my voice.
"Number six,"I faintly croaked,
"are you doing fine?"
and then the penny dropped
"In trouble number nine?"
It was pouring cats and dogs
Fully drenched I returning from the piano class
Suddenly saw I, gathered a group of tiny tots
Busy making and floating paper boats
Sat down with them
And danced, sang, sailed the blue boats
In ecstasy I realised that had
Happily embraced my inner child
When emotions ran footloose and wild
Down with a sore throat, influenza, pneumonia
Yet awaiting another shower
To join the kids in their mollycoddled gaiety and gala.
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