Replying to a comment on:

Farmhouse, Southern France (storm on arrival) (Free verse) by Ranger

I took you there; you hated it – the steep uncertain climes (and sloping glades of grain) which turned from diamanté lens to drear in clicking like an oaken farmhouse door. -It was no stream of sun – but skewing cloud And no-one seemed to know quite how it came to be so dark, or why it stayed so long The landscape threatened violence that day- as solar flowers threw their manes around with total disregard; the screaming slaves in chain-gang rows. A million beating fists would shatter stone and scatter glass in heaps beneath your feet, along the path you trod. You shut your eyes; it passed before you woke I told you it had left a ribbon track- the scent of water in an earthen pitch, and lizards leaping like a joyful king. But still you watched the crackling, heavy orb, like insects passed too soon for storm or grace an eye cast downwards – fractured morning ice of hurricane and tempest’s broken tide.

drnick 28-Sep-06/4:53 PM
I really like it up until the insect-line, I'm not sure where you're going from there on. I like "in clicking like an oaken farmhouse door" and "as solar flowers threw their manes around
with total disregard; the screaming slaves
in chain-gang rows." very good descriptions. At the same time, I know you can write much more vivdly. So fucking do it.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001