Spring lies in the fetters
and the blossoms on the fruit trees
make me cry.
The river sprints
and the breathing leaves me by the side
book and pen in hand,
thoughts lain on the riverbank.
In a pile they flash
and distract me, but alone
slip like mercury through my loose limbs.
Now I'll pull clothes off
like eating layers of a cake,
making sure I ignore the sweet icing between.
My feet on the rocks
feel the scales of a fish
and I think I'll lie along the bottom
willing the water to caress me more tenderly.
Author notes
I feel like a Modigliani painting today.
Does this work?
Comments
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Water nymph. A languorous Modigliani indeed!
Leticia,
As always, your poem is well executed and a delight to read.
I especially like the easy transitions from the thought life to the action. You take the reader gently and intimately [in the best sense] from one scene to the next, developing
the physical environment and the personal mood in parallel.
Perhaps you could have used a reference to Modogliani in the body of the poem.
The poem certainly fits Modigiani's nudes well, sensuous without purience. [I don't think I wish to take the word pictures to far in my imagination,though] You have written with a very mature femininity
Pardon my cultural ignorance, but it seemed to me that there were some lingustic double entendres in the wording. Yes/No?
I found 'fetters' a little awkward. If spring is restrained/chained, how are there blossoms on the cherry tree?
The line "making sure I ignore the sweet icing between" didn't really seem to add to the poem.
Over all, I think this shows your increasing skill and maturity.
Regards,
JG
language: 4, rhythm: 5, subject: 4, tone: 5, form: 4.
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I like the ending the most..So great imagery darl.. I sw you at the river...book and pen..water flowing..
Well done, some great thoughts strung into a poem
Cindy
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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