Poetry Thursday: Carry it with You
This week's Poetry Thursday seems to be entirely optional. Up to me. Though something was mentioned of carrying a poem with you. Write it down, put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day, or Thursday. Whichever comes sooner...
It's rained here all week. Long gray days full of pain and a fussy child, I'm not sure I wrote an ounce of poetry, let alone carried any with me. Maybe a bit of Byron. She walks in beauty like the night...a friend reminded me of Dead Poets Society. Standing on a desk, ripping out pages...let's do that, and Oh Captain, My Captain, she says in a breathless Bacall-esque tone. I'll purr in your ear, and yes, poetry: I nearly forgot. How could I?
Poetry Thursday, August 31st.
Only yesterday did I realize that August even had thirty one days. I thought it was over. September. Ready to be officially alive, and say goodbye to another friend.
My poem for today was written by hand on an August afternoon, so hence the first line. It’s true...most of it. Though I was obviously just writing and not doing what the poem implies.
In honor of August, and the thoughts I carried with me throughout this long hot summer, here it is, Oh reader, my friend:
Quietly
On an August Afternoon
In a sunlit room
With the ceiling fan on high, overhead
I am calm beneath the covers
Above me, warm air hovers
Where golden light and white walls are softly wed
I rub cool bare-feet
On sweat-soaked sheets
Up and down my own shaved legs
Hands beneath the quilt
I smile, and feel no guilt
For the places my mind has lead
My fingers soon to find
A tie that tightly binds
The thin blue dress I long to shed
Unzipping, and its slowing...
Arch my back until I'm glowing
And the sun outside my blinds burns bright red
I feel the heat through the glass
As this moment comes to pass
My naked shadow cast
So quietly in bed
6 comments:
I love that this is called Quietly. It flows smoothly, looking inwardly, finding all it needs in solitude. Rich and textured: quiet but glowing.
The feet-sheets-shaved legs will stay with me most, because that's a sensation that thrills me, though I can only rarely be bothered to shave and bring myself that joy. Lazy lazy me.
Sorry about the pain, honey, my tooth woes are nothing really, and all things will pass, anyway.
playful and sexy, i love it.
and you wrote this in pain?
playful and sexy is to put it mildly. I would label it as an erotic reflection. I'm left, after reading it, imagining myself lying in my bed, you lying in yours, and every woman I've known lying in hers all of us with out own thoughts under the same sun and trying to live with the clouds.
Naked shadows are alright with me.
Especially Naked Ashley shadows.
Okay too far. I loved the poem.
BH: I love that you loved this poem.
Bgfay: Hi! It's nice to meet you. :)
Your comment was brilliant..."under the same sun and trying to live with the clouds."
Perfect.
Thank you so much for reading. :)
BB: I love that you loved it too.
And no, I didn't actually write it in pain...I wrote it a few weeks prior to posting it. Already had it typed up, but had been too scared to share it, same with my first Sunday Scribblings post that is now floating around down there somewhere.
I need to quite hiding, I guess...nothing wrong with being playful. :)
...
JVS: I'm so glad you liked the title. It's the one word that comes to mind when talking of those types of "afternoons".
...
Thank you all so much for reading, and handing me some feedback. It's been a long time since I've shared poetry, and it's quite nerve-racking...
Liberating, though.
Thanks again. :)
~ Ash
Man was it ever good to find this today. :) there's something about good rising from ashes (no pun intended there Ash) -- a reference to other events of the week.
I'm off to read and catch up! The new phoenixed blog will do nicely come winter :) thanks!
Love the blue...there's something about blue that has nothing to do with being borrowed or new...
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