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Memories
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
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
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..
ReplyDeletecheers and keep writing
Hello and thank you for visiting my blog!
ReplyDeleteSensational poetry!!!!
Clare.
I like the words
ReplyDeletein the poem
Thanks so much
Rebecca