Holiday Romance is too banal a word for such an exquisite experience. Is it me? Is it true? I'm not telling....
The sun was beating on the dry white sand;
A gentle sea-breeze stirred
The rustling marram-grass
Upon the ancient dunes.
The afternoon was hot and dry;
The sea was lapping playfully
At the sandy sloping shore,
Where gulls were tossing
Sea-sculpted, sun-bleached stones
In tireless search of food.
A shy young girl, a rosebud soon to bloom,
Relaxed beneath the blazing sun,
When her Adonis came into view,
Strolling through the sharp-leaved grass
At three o'clock, September.
His hair was dark and wild,
His dark eyes even wilder,
A pink shirt draped
Around his lean golden body:
She was lost in that moment.
And so, each day at three, he would chance by:
Few words were said, and yet
The memories of those dreamlike days
Would live forever in her heart,
A book of sunlit mind-pictures:
(Sitting on time-smoothed, sun-faded boards,
Electric warmth
Of his firm thigh as it touched hers,
Feather-light touch of his hand
Brushing sand from her bare brown shoulder:
Sharp roots snatching at their toes
As they ran childlike
through rarely-trodden paths
In the marram-grass:
Standing, feet pressed deep
In the hot, smooth sand,
While picture-book zigzag lightning
Flashed on the distant horizon,
And warm storm-drops
Cooled sun-kissed skin:
Walking on the midnight beach
By the moonlit waves,
Gazing in wonderment
At the sparkling green jewels
Of sea creatures
Washed shoreward by the storm:
Too soon, the goodbye-day;
A soft embrace
And fragrant, youthful lips
Brushed close, at last.
Eternity
And sea and sand
And wide blue sky
Bore witness then, to
Her awakening.)
And you, my golden boy,
When nights are dark,
And sleep has fled, do you recall
An elfin woman-child with long dark hair
And adoration in her wide green eyes?
Poetry by Marie Cadavieco
Read 757 times
Written on 2007-08-23 at 11:24
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Awakening
It was a late, lazy summer day:The sun was beating on the dry white sand;
A gentle sea-breeze stirred
The rustling marram-grass
Upon the ancient dunes.
The afternoon was hot and dry;
The sea was lapping playfully
At the sandy sloping shore,
Where gulls were tossing
Sea-sculpted, sun-bleached stones
In tireless search of food.
A shy young girl, a rosebud soon to bloom,
Relaxed beneath the blazing sun,
When her Adonis came into view,
Strolling through the sharp-leaved grass
At three o'clock, September.
His hair was dark and wild,
His dark eyes even wilder,
A pink shirt draped
Around his lean golden body:
She was lost in that moment.
And so, each day at three, he would chance by:
Few words were said, and yet
The memories of those dreamlike days
Would live forever in her heart,
A book of sunlit mind-pictures:
(Sitting on time-smoothed, sun-faded boards,
Electric warmth
Of his firm thigh as it touched hers,
Feather-light touch of his hand
Brushing sand from her bare brown shoulder:
Sharp roots snatching at their toes
As they ran childlike
through rarely-trodden paths
In the marram-grass:
Standing, feet pressed deep
In the hot, smooth sand,
While picture-book zigzag lightning
Flashed on the distant horizon,
And warm storm-drops
Cooled sun-kissed skin:
Walking on the midnight beach
By the moonlit waves,
Gazing in wonderment
At the sparkling green jewels
Of sea creatures
Washed shoreward by the storm:
Too soon, the goodbye-day;
A soft embrace
And fragrant, youthful lips
Brushed close, at last.
Eternity
And sea and sand
And wide blue sky
Bore witness then, to
Her awakening.)
And you, my golden boy,
When nights are dark,
And sleep has fled, do you recall
An elfin woman-child with long dark hair
And adoration in her wide green eyes?
Poetry by Marie Cadavieco
Read 757 times
Written on 2007-08-23 at 11:24
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
melanie sue |
|
Rob Graber |
