Tot el que està escrit aquí és obra de Jere Soler

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Saturday, April 5, 2008

Memories

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Memories


Drops of blue brightness,
sprinkling from sky's cloudless sphere.
Figleaves and burning bunches,
drawing hanging grapes over red and hot land.
Buzzing of bees in the sticky sultriness, and the silence of august.
Flowers stem with wrinkled beards.
And me, when I was a child,
searching birds eggs in nests.
The sea, near...
as the palm of one's hand receiving me
I deliver myself wholly to this blue and wide hand,
because I want, because I feel I must do it.
A clay's jug overflowing...
water with a land flavour...
freshness of old and white house.



Helènic Glauc


3 comments:

The Wandering Hermit said...

I like the momentary feel of time your words create.. slowing it down from moment to moment. very nice and thanks for visiting and leaving a comment on my blog..
cheers and keep writing

Clare said...

Hello and thank you for visiting my blog!
Sensational poetry!!!!
Clare.

Rebecca Opetsi said...

I like the words

in the poem

Thanks so much
Rebecca