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Open Poetry #47
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Spellbound Breeze
| Open Poetry #47 |
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Spellbound Breeze |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050
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It got quiet all of a sudden. I kind of like that. The sky is the most beautiful clear blue I’ve seen in a long time, well except for a few little clouds floating in a procession across the horizon like a bunch of little white piggies eating roast beef on their wah wah home. I wonder if indians ever wrote poetry with smoke signals to their sweethearts? I mean it is a form of language right, so say some guy named, He who writes on sky, who lived on the other side of forever and six moons, wanted to write to his gal named, She who melts the stars, who’s to say he couldn’t write her a letter and send it via Apache Air mail? I mean at first it might look like simple puffs of smoke to her but as he twisted and turned his writing blanket the puffs would start to take on these unique shapes, that would make her pause and remember when they were together in their townhouse teepee. Of course he could only write these love letters when the winged horses were traveling toward her bringing her smiles, and goose bumps that he was alright, and that he was thinking of her right then, sometimes reading these notes on balmy summer evenings under the lamp of the moon. Sometimes maybe the wind would make a special delivery and hang low to the ground and the smoke and ashes from the wood and wild flowers that he had picked to write with would fall gently on her mouth kissing her lips tenderly. Maybe he didn’t just write with sight and touch but with scent as well. Maybe when she smelled the fragrance of cedar that meant that he missed her dearly and that he would, see her, soon. Maybe the aroma of cypress represented the sigh that they made when they were pressed together in love. Maybe the smell of white fir meant that he had some rabbit skins for her that were the color of snowflakes that he would make into a pair of mittens to keep her soft hands warm when he was gone. Maybe the spicy smell of maple told her that she was sweet like the syrup of the forrest that they would share together on cold nights when the sky was a water color painting as a coyote called out long and lonely for his mate that he missed as well. Maybe the sweet bouquet of peach wood meant that he missed her sweet and juicy fruits and, she probably missed that he missed them, too. Maybe when she smelled the strong musk of redwood that meant… well… I’ll let you figure that one out on your own. Maybe… when she smelled her favorite incense of olive wood over, and over, and over, it meant, olive you, olive you, I love you, forever. |
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| © Copyright 2011 Richy - All Rights Reserved | |||
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
my, my, my...you are the romantic, are you not? ...wonderfully clever and image-laden write...as we use to say...smokin' |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050 |
Smokin eh? Well it was about smoke signals yes? Thanks friend for always having a kind word, I so appreciate that! Richard  |
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Nareena Member
since 2011-02-17
Posts 51BC, Canada |
This was an absolute PLEASURE to read! Thank you SO MUCH for sharing this and bringing a smile to my face! |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050 |
Thanks so much Nareena for all the kind replies, you really are too kind! |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
I love where your mind wanders and how it brings on such nice writings. jo |
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Richy Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 3050 |
Oh then heck Jo you'd love me all the time, I don't even know where my mind is right now it's wandered off somewhere... Thanks dear friend you are very sweet. |
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