"and the birds twitter like whispering violins" - Constance La France
SEMIQUAVERS
In the warm, late summer day, I lie in the verdant meadow,
Head cushioned on my discarded jacket.
Way up above, the drone of a small plane
Seems only to accentuate the stillness of the day.
I close my eyes and, in my mind,
I see you standing there, that haunting smile upon your lips.
That haunting smile I long to see again.
A new sound wakes me from my reverie
And, opening my eyes I see
A swoop of swallows circling in a confusion of patterns
Before settling on the overhead telegraph wires,
Looking for all the world like semiquavers on a music score.
The drone of the plane fades away
"and the birds twitter like whispering violins.’
Lost in the beauty of their chorus,
I could swear they were playing our tune.
15th May 2023
Writing Challenge A Quotes poetry contest
Sponsor - Constance Le France
The care of a wine seller,
We kiss in sibilant hiss,
Old Jamaica on her lips,
I can feel a touch of gin
A fleeting jinni,
Playing roulette in my breath,
I hear notes; semiquavers,
When our head turns, tongues churn,
In opposite vector.
I’ll take you to the festival
Of spoken word,
Present you as my piece.
My thin fingers,
Strike the red ochre,
The red on your lips,
Is it Arabica,
Roasted berries on your lips?
Am possessed, God!
Am blessed!
There’s palm wine,
In her breath,
And those round earrings,
Dancing like herring.
As murmurs lilt, heads tilt,
And ways of that ilk,
Confessions in the back,
Streams meet in us,
Currents, up and down.
Bluish wisps of dawn,
Rivulet down your face,
Ah! This is grace.
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