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C. J. Stevens

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Member Since: Aug, 2000

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by C. J. Stevens

Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by C. J. Stevens
•  Warm Bread
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           >> View all 45

The wind will keep them gossiping
for hours. Just under, under the mud,
their sensual toes curl for the touch
of water. Before a snowfall
one can follow their tracks, down and back.
They disappear in their tattered capes,
belted with buckles of gold. They are
the pampered ones - often spoiled brats.
On hot days they wear spinelike feathers
pinned to bonnets of blue. Sometimes
snobbish and high-strung, they are
unpredictable, these tall girls.

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Reviewed by John Bushore 9/30/2006
Being an Indiana boy, transplanted to Virginia, this touched a deep chord inside of me. Sorry for the plagiarism, Michelle, I felt the same. Nice, Americana imagery.

Reviewed by Michelle Mills 1/9/2005
Being an Indiana girl transplanted to Florida, this touched a deep chord inside of me. Michelle
Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson 9/24/2004
I have had this re-acurring dream
where I am lured out of my window by a mysterious man
(handsome I am sure) his shadow anyway,
and we embrace in the darkness surrounded by cornstalks that block the majority of the sunlite....
not really but for some reason this is what I thought as I read this

thank you for sharing I did enjoy your poem
and the thoughts that lingered from *BigSmiles
Reviewed by Dawn Richerson 9/22/2004
great descriptive write
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 9/22/2004

growing up in ohio as i did, this brought back the sights, sounds and smells of cornfields. and i shucked plenty of ears :)

love this descriptive delight--thank you

(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
Reviewed by Sue Hess 9/22/2004
what a wonderfully descriptive poem, i could almost see the corn field by my aunt's house
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