Friday, April 8, 2016

Melinda Smith #8 pine


(not one of my photographs)

pine
“Everything will be forgiven her, for she loved much, and everything will be forgiven him, for he had much fun” (Tolstoy, War and Peace)

light on green needles
our lips meet
a tangerine, a nectarine
an exhaustible well

lying under the pine
we don’t remember why this happened
who has the key?

early morning
blue as bruised cold
the folds of the curtain close their mouths on the light

knowing which day by
my toughness
as a darkness climbs my arm
when putting on a coat

do you feel me riding
in the field of your absence?
(een mandarijn, een nectarine)
there is a version of me that's screaming in the hall.

this morning has the ears of a foal
moving towards midnight
I have to look in if I want to be found
find my way to the sea


(this poem is a cento composed from lines in today’s posts: Andrew Burke, 'SENRYU TWO', Jeltje Fanoy, 'wearing th world, again', Lies Van Gasse, 'dag 1-98', Brian Purcell, 'After Bob Dylan', Robert Verdon, 'Cubby Houses for Riding Time', Anne Walsh, 'Foal Eared Morning', Lizz Murphy, 'Skull/hook - From 10 short poems [one by one]', Coral Carter '#Seven short poem', plus a description of Sue Rawlinson’s picture in line 10.)

3 comments:

  1. Fabulous, Melinda. (I've never had anything in a cento before!)

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  2. Sounds like a good thing to do!

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  3. I love this, Melinda and hadn't seen it til now. This foal eared morning, my velvet ears are forward , the butterfly, your words. Oh to be foal again and not the one screaming n the hall, your words lift me to foal state. And I am loose in the field, not loss. And oh the Tolstoy words are my autobio better written by someone else! Thanks to you, Melinda, for you and for your work.

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