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Passions in Poetry

deep in green

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wordancer
Senior Member
since 07-30-2000
Posts 810
VA


0 posted 04-02-2014 04:15 PM       View Profile for wordancer   Email wordancer   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for wordancer

deep in green
we dream of an ancient forest
where pine needles layer the earthen floor
where shadows of boughs cast striped light
and the staccato call of a bird shrills

to pierce the dawning hush

long ago in those distant hours of yore
our days were endless, bonnie, and faire
as we ran together laughing hand-in-hand
to dodge around the ranked towers of trees
in an endless game of tag

now these remnants of our past

are just rings counted in the bark of time
as we stand apart from the sun's revolution
time is torn from our clutching fingers
and still our bare feet ache to remember
the sharp prick of a pine-laden ground

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
~Mark Strand

© Copyright 2014 Beverly A. Tift - All Rights Reserved
DaysofView
Junior Member
since 04-01-2014
Posts 28
Billy's Best Half


1 posted 04-03-2014 07:41 PM       View Profile for DaysofView   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for DaysofView

A lovely reminisce. Full of rich imagery.

To call oneself a poet is a vain remark indeed. After you're dead, let others eulogize you as such if they feel you are worthy.

Margherita
Member Seraphic
since 02-08-2003
Posts 21403
Eternity


2 posted 06-30-2014 06:01 AM       View Profile for Margherita   Email Margherita   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Margherita

Absolutely wonderful, dear Beverly. I felt it deeply.

Love.
Margherita

"Love is the One who masters all things;
I am mastered totally by Love."
(Rumi)

jwesley
Member Ascendant
since 04-30-2000
Posts 6583
Texas . . .


3 posted 08-10-2014 07:37 PM       View Profile for jwesley   Email jwesley   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for jwesley

"...and still our bare feet ache to remember
the sharp prick of a pine-laden ground."

Ah, my whole being reaches for the past in many ways - especially the odors, like gumbo-soil an inch or so beneath my nose when laying on my belly watching wild Bobwhites scratching the ground not 5 feet from me, or watching Yellow-jackets on a nest spanning 18-inches deep in the swamp - watching them watching me (scared to death)- wondering how badly my immediate future would turn out (never got stung!! Took twenty minutes to walk out of that fix!)...
and more, much more.

Good write, my friend.

j.
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