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Open Poetry #49
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First Love
| Open Poetry #49 |
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First Love |
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Cari Member Posts 411 Englnand |
The preachers voice dust dry In the June warm morning Even the crucified Christ Is looking for release ~ I plan thoughts of revenge With a Sunday afternoon fast ball My eyes wander to find beauty Among a garden of floral hats ~ Now on the promise of a fleeting smile I hang my daydreams A stumble of words lie discarded In screwed balls of pencil thin poetry ~ Raise your pillowed head To think of me My love is on the night wind That curtsies at your open window A word of explanation on the ‘Sunday fast ball’ In England many of our clergy play village cricket, I won’t bore you with the rules, so if you are an American think of baseball and a beamer aimed at your head. |
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| © Copyright 2015 Cari - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
The "beamer" was aimed at your brin as you sat in the church..thrown by the preachers dry voice, to hit you square between the eyes.. That afternoon you threw the ball back, slammed by your cricket bat pen. The last stanza explains the title. great style, and delivery of theme. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Oh my, I absolutely love the last two lines, Cari! ~ Do what you have to do to feel right, |
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