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Post by LeoVictorBriones (poetremains) on Feb 14, 2008 15:08:51 GMT -5
Bend my throbs and beats and pounds
like the chain of Spring in the climbing clematis.
Let its purple be my blood,
the star of its lavender my hands.
Let its filament wiggle in the wind
and be drunk on the blazing sky.
And please,
Today, do not remind me
of the cruelty of final frost after early bloom,
nor how a weary sepal can betray a flowers lust to sing
or its desire to hold the sun like the sensuous fire of first being.
No today, do not let me know my sweet Valentine,
how deliberate summer’s torch.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Feb 14, 2008 16:14:39 GMT -5
I must admit to not sending out my bag full of Valentine cards. Unfortunately, it is not always the thought that counts. Yours as well as others are addressed and sitting in my purse.
I actually enjoy this poem quite a bit. It certainly stings. My favorite lines are:
And please,
Today, do not remind me
of the cruelty of final frost after early bloom,
Ouch.
Happy Valentine's Day my romantic friend. Please let me know about your trip to Biltmore. I went there many times as a child and as an adult as well. It is actually one of my favorite places. I always remind myself to stay a bit longer after touring the winery. I especially enjoyed driving the parkway in my convertible years ago. Please return in the fall or at Christmas time. I promise you that you will not be disappointed.
Sherry
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Post by sandpiper on Feb 17, 2008 11:13:08 GMT -5
"Let its purple be my blood,
the star of its lavender my hands.
Let its filament wiggle in the wind
and be drunk on the blazing sky."
ahh..
This is another of those Leo "Ahh, damn.." writes for me....
well done.
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Post by Ron Wallace (Scotshawk) on Feb 17, 2008 12:38:40 GMT -5
Well done, my friend, not a nit from me, did notice a typo: S3L4 "flowers" needs an apostrophe. Always a fine voice. Ron
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Post by LynnDoiron on Feb 19, 2008 23:11:45 GMT -5
Leo, all thoughts/ideas for you to consider or ignore at your pleasure.
Hold my throbs and beats and pounds
like the chain of Spring in the climbing clematis.
Let its purple be my blood,
the star of its lavender my hands.
Let its filament wiggle in the wind
and be drunk on the blazing sky.
And please,
today, do not remind me
of the cruelty of final frost after early bloom,
nor how a weary sepal can betray a flower's lust to sing
or its desire to hold the sun like the sensuous fire of first being.
No today, do not let me know my sweet Valentine,
how deliberate is the summer’s torch.
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Post by mfwilkie on Feb 20, 2008 0:16:51 GMT -5
Good suggestions, chicky.
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Post by johnnysaturn on Feb 20, 2008 12:21:59 GMT -5
More ubermeistery. Great stuff.
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Post by MichaelFirewalker on Feb 20, 2008 18:24:18 GMT -5
such a fragrant breath of tendeness...your heart, passion's gift to all of us, Leo...
michael
ps----only one small stumble,
"No[,][not] today, do not let me know my sweet Valentine, "
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