I'm trying to run straight
on hairpin turns
on the left side
because they told me
that's where runners belong
Lake Lure I learned by curves
in midafternoon
I don't read the papers
I am happier that way
I know the song
of an indigo bunting
My song is still
a copycat
of a northern mockingbird
enjoying the day
The water rubs the rocks clean
longer than making the best of love
That I was the water, the rocks, the roads,
certain of shape, direction, and time
were rushed
when I counted strings
between strands of silence
in midafternoon
between requiems
smoked salmon
with capers in the sour cream
fresh flowers greeted me when I visited Positano
also the smells of expresso brewing, it was morning
By midafternoon I smelled garlic and onions
I sat at a café where the chef’s assistant greeted me
She offered to pour me wine, red, white, whatever
Italian hospitality is alive and well in this place
We are featuring sausage pizzelle, she told me, it is delicious
Do I smell fresh bread? I asked her. I surely did.
It rained a bit later, and I recognized the smell of leather.
I had not smelled that since my childhood.
Italy will always awaken in me the memory of this day
And the welcoming fragrences of the boulevard.
A
beauty,
she,
and, he
a dandy,
strutted
though
the park
that sunny
midafternoon.
Arm-in-arm
the two
strolled,
lost in
dialogue
about
their
wedding
plans.
NB: Waltz Wave form – created by Leo Waltz. Inspired by, but not entered in Emile Pinet’s Waltz Wave Poetry Contest.
Afternoon Hiatus
Counting footsteps at dapper dawn’s increased insistence
As flurries of minutes in perpetual movement binds hands
To a spinning roulette of prioritized importance
Motivating motives of revelations demand admittance
And attention’s effervescent energy
Like the ordered notes in a music box rebellion
That winds down when solitary sol begins to slide
Past the apex of day’s light that tumbles
Toward the waiting, wandering, sea’s vertical vortex
In long beams touching yawning midafternoon
Begging the tattered taskmaster time
Sit down!
Be still!
In china cups from time before
Savor the pearls of tawny topaz perfume
Carried from exotic mountain slopes
Amber ambrosia steeped in afternoons long passed
To pause
Pushing back on the tempo of time’s insistent intervals -
To disconnect in soaring sighs
Of an afternoon holiday in hiatus.
1-29-21
Contest: Hiatus
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
It's late March and the weather here in Penryn California is warming
At Midafternoon on a Monday, there is a light breeze blowing under a bright sun
I stare out the kitchen window and a feeling of peace sweeps though my body
I view the geese on the pond and the pasture beyond filled with fresh spring grass
Off in the distance a freight train can be seen lumbering up the grade, destination Reno
Cupcake our adopted bush cat is asleep in her bed on the deck, coiled up in a ball
The peace I felt before slowly subsides and is replaced by mixed feelings
I feel somewhat apprehensive as I remember my 80th birthday recently passed
Looking ahead now is always accompanied by the reality that life is not forever
I clear my mind of such things and try to focus on the miracle of life
Although our time here on Earth is short, each day can be an eternity, if we choose so
So each day I will return to the kitchen window, observe and count my blessings
For to live one must embrace life with both their body as well as their soul
And as time marches on and the kitchen window grows cloudy and hazy with age
The memories accumulated may well live on as the soul continues its eternal journey
Out on the cold frozen porch in midafternoon..Ice is dripping pitter pat from the
trees and off the roof..That north easterly wind roughly crackles the few leaves left
hanging on the oak..Ice sickles hang releasing one drop at a time..Those wind
chimes clank a frozen sound..Roosters crow across the creek as if the sun was
coming up and it is a warm spring morn..A little confused somehow..As the breeze
moves the frozen fingers of trees there is a snap crackle pop as of one who has
suffered from arthritis for many years..Just listening to the distressed sounds of
nature is chilling to my bones..Those few minutes out on the porch was refreshing
and chilling all at the same minute..
Tiny snowflakes
Spiral from
The grey sky
That is the same color of
Dirty paintbrushes
In a pallet of the residual water
the snow
falls
and
sweeps over
the trees
who no longer
wear coats
of red
and orange leaves
natures
skeletons
for the moment
such giants
that sleep
and snowflakes
fall
onto my jacket
as I shiver
into the cool winters
midafternoon
and
the silence
is eerie
until
my feet
step
on the dead
leaves
who are also grey
I say goodbye
To summer days
As the geese
Fly to
Escape the far freezing reaches
Of this place
My heart
Goes with them, and we are all
Frozen here
With the snowflakes that
Made the ice
That killed the green
Where has the suns warmth
Gone?
With
Beautifully painted sunsets
That now
Leaves us with one gigantic
Mess
Where has my love gone
Away with the seasons
Where
Has my hope gone
Now that daylight is slowly leaving?
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