A fine summer day,
a Peter Pan day,
a day in the never land of youth.
Daisy wore a dress, not good for climbing.
I wore tight shorts, not so good for climbing -
yet we climbed.
Daisy was up the apple tree,
I was hung from a lower branch.
The apples were illegal
the orchard just another temptation
for exploration.
Saw her long coltish limbs
saw other unseen before things.
Apples smacks my head.
“Hey!”
Daisy laughing in my old mind.
I rub a phantom sore spot
on my bald patch.
Hill country
snow is thawing
The wind is a Spring scented ripple
- coltish
Nature for a little while
asks: "come and play"
Of course you smile
Long years are released
from that tightly packed jail
you had been carrying along
for so long
Now the deer come
one
then too many to count
as they thread through
the tree-line
now they are nibbling
at your presence here
their large brown eyes
feed you with small cups of wonder
You are a boy again
a lad running
to gain the very peak of the blue sky
a sky that takes you up
and spins you around
as you forget to be yesterday
When we went down to the sea
it was low tide,
we picked shells and rescued star fish.
We were young enough
to fondle and fall for romantic dreams,
A tidal love licked at an innocent shore.
At the sea's thin edge
little silver fish darted between our fingers.
The smell of that salty brine
and her sweet nearness overwhelmed,
she had hitched up her skirt -
her coltish legs mesmerized.
I kissed her knee gently, we both giggled,
not knowing, yet knowing
it had begun
and for a day or four more
the same sea rose-up in her and I
then her parents whisked her away
it ended,
but if I could send her a postcard now
I would tell her that I am still enamored,
still in love with those once youthful knees.
PLENIPOTENTIARY EVE
Shrinking violet ~rise~
Stay not in ultraviolet haze
Lovely ~lavender~ destress
Unfurl your coltish legs
Adopt Eve’s consanguineous power
Release your adamantine eyes
Prisoners of those timid lashes
Stimulate the dulcet of your fluted voice
Those chords of human praise
Train your horsepower spirit
For adventure of ~olympic flame~
Still…bend those humble knees
Those beauties that seek the lamb
A pure white carpet ride through lavender scent
That calms and steadies each tremulous event
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
I still look through
young man’s eyes,
though
skin and bones are
aging,
my mind’s eye
disagrees with it,
despite
what mirrors
displaying.
How could I have
these coltish
thoughts,
"I should
be out there
playing,"
some say it’s time
to pack it in,
and spend
more time with
praying.
This can't be, I
shall not let,
existence
be simply delaying,
the inevitable, the
lonely slide,
death’s
scythe intense
belaying.
So off I go to enjoy
romp,
though
hair is quickly
graying,
rather spend my time
sowing,
than on
the winter haying.
Bewail paltry ministry that gentle breeze ch aunt.
Impatience and dream hack milestone and whisper, a hailstorm of ornery ilk hum.
Go by the gentle breeze and bring hope.
Leif Leif kink lackey of milky joy.
Gently, gently, gentle breeze,
flag the rags on the meadow where you sleep
and declaim the meager ruddy leaves that ruin thee,
of immaculate mole illusory.
Gently, gently grip me,
or else thrash of licking whip.
Will bemoan laconically in our ill-bred head.
But still impede the witch-cash
with your gentle touch that comes from the measureless pretense of eve
like the halt of your gentle spoil that
Scour our coltish heart.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.