Sep
21
In the middle of the night
In the middle
Of the window
Stunned still
Its glare floods
The furrows
Of the pillow
Turn
There are dreams to reap
For the long winter ahead
Poetry from kerry
Sep
02
Assiduously avoiding all signs of fall
I am savoring every flavor
Of this most beautiful summer
Hoarding the treasure like a thief
Figs bursting like a jewel box
Amethyst plums in my pockets
Like a party crasher
I devour everything at the banquet
Warm ruby ripe tomatoes basil and balsamic
Salty emerald pesto strands slipping through my lips
I smile at the invited guests
A sweet topaz corn kernel dangling from my chin
The juice of jade tarragon chicken drips through my fingers
Ignoring the signs of fall and failing
I look over my shoulder for the reckoning
And feel the chill from an open door
8 Comments »
Jul
30
Looking out
Over a vast network
Of mountain ridges
Covered by dense forest
Distant peaks
Deep valleys
Looking back
On unexplored paths
Bewildering intersections
Irretrievable trails
Breath taking climbs
To summits
Of heart rending beauty
And slow arduous descents
Looking in
To find a vantage point
2 Comments »
Jun
27
In the just cool
Of a late June evening
You drive down the long hill
They stand on the street
Tall, lean, beckoning
With long limbs
There’s a definite
Buzz about them
You’re captivated
By their intoxicating fragrance
Fascinated with
Dripping yellow diamond
Chandelier earrings
And conquered
By their ruffled hearts
2 Comments »
May
30
The first hot
Summer-like day
I walk the Tiglio Road
Through dense humid acacia
Clover and elderflower air
Like stepping into a shower
In any one of the many houses
In which I have lived
Or stayed
Full with sense and sensitivity
To smell the soapy steam
Someone has just left
4 Comments »
Mar
30
A blood orange sun hovers
Behind buildings
Anchored in an icy sea
Continue reading ‘A Flame Within’
No Comments »
Jan
14
The staccato
Beat
Of the strobe
Of the light
Through the trunks
Of the trees
On the slope
As I drive
The winding road
The blinding flash
Of white
When I come
To a stop
7 Comments »
Dec
01
Ground Ginger
Cinnamon
Dried Parsley
Saffron
Turmeric
Cayenne
Nutmeg
Ground Pepper
Hillsides
From ancient kitchens
Hot
Spots
Of savoury light
As the glow fades
For the winter
No Comments »
Sep
25
Last beads of moisture
And hope
Have evaporated
Sweaters are shed
We file with buckets
Into the rows
One by one
Continue reading ‘La Vendemmia’
No Comments »
Sep
04
Ends
In a downpour
Of water
And words
Sun
Hits
Warm wet dirt
Vapors rise
Grass glistens
Scents
Permeate
Grapes swell
Figs burst
Chimneys
Smoke
Chill
Creeps
Skin crawls
Light glows
3 Comments »
Jul
30
peak
summit
apex
midway
afloat on a placid lake
I want to stop time
savor the warmth
a bite of overripe cantaloupe
a whiff of fresh basil
a crush of black pepper
on prosciutto
No Comments »
Jun
11
Walking
Under
Around
Through
And among
The Stars.
P.S. This is interactive poetry: Whoever figures out what the heck I’m writing about wins a pizza dinner here with us. Message Kerry on the Forum with your answer. Staff and family of barganews.com, its affiliates and subsidiaries, are ineligible.
9 Comments »
May
21
Firm ripe red globes of pebbled flesh
Hanging hidden beneath and between
Toothed leaves
In dank dirt
On shadow washed banks
That with a feather light fingertip touch fall
Weightless into my palm
Then the taste of sweet perfume
No Comments »
May
05
There is an alarm clock going off somewhere
Beep beep beep beep beep beep
But then it stops
And then it goes off again
Is it in one of the apartments below
Beep beep beep beep beep beep
Piercing urgent insistent
Is there a warning buzzer on some machine here
Did I misset the clock on the stove again
Is my son playing his Gameboy upstairs
When I have specifically said he may not
Enough electronics for today
I told him
But he has been known to hide under his covers
Thinking I wont discover him
I stand and prepare to confront him
All is quiet and then I hear it again
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
My attention is drawn to the window
It is a bird deep in the forest.
No Comments »
Apr
28
A shy breeze breathes
A heady mix of
Penetrating perfume
Acacia in bloom
Heavy clusters of
Delicate white petals
Its lady finger leaves
Lightly tracing shadows
Intoxicating elderflower’s lace antimacassar
Searching for a smooth sofa shoulder to lie on
Standing firm full figs
Not yet hanging soft
Ever the consummate gentleman
The linden proffers his heart shaped leaf
Is it love or is it just
Spring
No Comments »
Apr
11
One voice shatters
The dark silence
Then another
And another
I saw it first
No, I saw it
No, it was me over here,
I saw it
Then all at once
The joyous cacophony builds
To a crescendo
I close the window
And slip back between warm sheets
Day breaks
2 Comments »
Mar
27
Streams shivering.
Sap rising.
Stems shooting
Light green filigree.
Soft fur buds
On pussy willow
Sprouting
In high grass
Sweating.
Tall figures
Of
Hot pungent
Heather
Hovering.
Banks blanketed
in periwinkle.
With flushed cheeks
Spring is coming.
3 Comments »
Feb
27
Lashed.
Like a gale,
And then a
Lull.
Whipped.
A roller coaster,
Chugging up one side,
Careening down the other,
A sharp left turn,
And stop.
Thrashed.
One miserable day,
Dawns into a brilliant
Blue next.
Breathtaken.
Schizoid
Manic
Depressive
Bipolar
That is February.
No Comments »
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- Viviano : ..drums -- and usually three our four back-up singers.
- Viviano : Carde's right to bemoan the use of sound tracks -- but so did Drew when he sang at his first Barga gig. He asked the audience to plead with local musicians to jam with him on his second night at the Sport. I also think our grande batterista is confusing blues with soul in his comment about inexpensive guitars. Bluesmen will perform with just a chitarra da 2 soldi, but soul was always highly orchestrated music with lots ofhorns and string instruments in the background -- as well as a full set of drums -- and usually three our four back-up singers.
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- Quentin Compson : Yes, Ma'am. It would be King Lear I believe, an allusion to the fool (and to Lear himself). But there is a more recent connection between Yokapatawpha and the Coldfields with a Biblical reference -- Absalom -- rather than the Shakespearean one to which you allude.
- poetry : Miss Coldfield, considered poetess laureate of Yoknapatawpha County, may simply be quoting Shakespeare, I do believe.
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- Quentin Compson : Doggy, May I refer you to three sources on the Action-Theory dialectic? Albert Camus: "To do is to be." Jean-Paul Sartre: "To be is to do." Francis Albert Sinatra; "Do be do be doo." That should answer your question.
- Rosa Coldfield : ... it is a tale Told by and idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
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