Waking, sleeping
feeling the long missed protective embrace
Stretching, touching
to the slowly, moving rhyme
She arched her soul
as he danced her in mirrored time
Echoing, listening
giving release from her a cappella pace
Kissing, caressing
they shared every accepting hello
And he played
her as his most precious cello
And brought forth
her ancient, joyful, woman song.
copyright Charselle 2008
This was published with a different title but I like this title better and it needs no annotation.
11/12/08
11/10/08
Harvest
Autumn bawdily exhaling
Gold leaves skittering
Bare branches shivering
Flaming persimmons beckon.
copyright Charselle 10/16/06
I was walking across a parking lot when a huge gust of wind blew all the leaves off a ginko tree and they raced past the other trees like little ballerinas rushing to make their entrance. I looked up and saw a tree laden with persimmons and was taken back a quarter of a century to a magnificent autumnal feast my girlfriend Debbie and I prepared. For a brief moment I could taste our persimmon pudding with hard sauce . This poem is dedicated to that dear friend Deborah Cummings/McDonald, I am forever grateful for her friendship and she will always have a place in my heart and be on my short list.
persimmon pudding:
hard sauce:
persimmon pudding:
11/9/08
Juice
I want you to crave me like juice
Like good, comfortable, icebox juice
drunk straight from the jug
on a hot, youthful, tree-climbin' afternoon
Like elegant, extravagant, luxurious juice
squeezed from voluptuous oranges
on a breath-takingly beautiful, bird-singing, break of day
Like sweet, cool, salvation juice
soothing your dirt road of a throat
on a mean, dry, hung-over mouth morning
I want you to crave me like juice
Juice in tall tumblers
Juice the color of padparadscha sapphires
Juice as fresh and new as childhood
The juice that nourishes you all the rest of your days.
I want you to crave me like juice.
(copyright Charselle 2008)
This is my favorite poem and also the first poem I wrote as a full-blown adult (a bunch of hot air! LOL) ...this was not a poem I planned to write... it just came pouring out of me like 'Juice'....I had not sat down to write poetry since my late teens-early twenties...
The morning I wrote "Juice" I was in a depressed state, (unknown to me at the time) I was going into a breakup...that morning I had one of those extreme headaches, with the accompaning cotton-mouth, that only come from extreme alcohol poisening...I was gently walking me and my aching brain across the kitchen floor, imagining the bottle of juice I was going to pull out of the refrigerator...when this poem started pouring out of my brain so fast I literally sat down on the floor and wrote it on a paper bag...I love it ...once I figure out how I will upload an audio file of my reading it either here or on my website
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
