by Florence B Fry
Monday, March 04, 2002
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So If I Am A Gypsy.
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The summer day is long and hot, a mirage blurs my view,
Creating sheets of water beneath a sky so blue.
Where I watch the fence posts dancing below the shimmering trees,
To the mighty orchestration of a thousand buzzing bees.
Chewing cud with eyes tight closed, somnolent stand the cows.
Or stretched out flat on cool green grass, the forest ponies drowse.
Each sometimes flicking ear or tail to ward off biting flies.
And from a distant playground, the sound of childrens cries.
I feel a breeze caress my skin, soft and slight, but cool.
Blowing here and blowing there, as aimless as a fool
Who looks for something simple to fill an empty mind.
But, till the autumn days have come, it nothing yet can find.
No fallen leaves, or flower fluff, to toss in exaltation.
Demanding that they all will dance and share its wild elation.
So, hide-and-seek becomes the game, for those who need its touch.
When summer day has reached its peak, the sun become too much.
And there is no discerning, the moment of the change,
That takes the suns bright burning behind a mountain range
Of clouds, now formed in cumulus, dark and silver lined.
Impressions ever nebulous, vague and misty blind.
Shadows fade and disappear, sparkling waters still.
Outlines now become more clear, the sky begins to fill.
Overcast and menacing, its latent threat in check.
Waiting for its special time, this lovely day to wreck.
No sound, no sun, no wind at all, the whole world seems to wait
With bated breath, as if in love, and sky above its mate.
Still and silent stretches time, and then the breeze restarts,
To set the leaves a chattering with joyous happy hearts.
Anticipating, as if were kisses, every drop of rain
That will touch them in its falling, help them to retain
All the colour that is theirs, so many shades of green.
Thus God above arranges, and all this shall be seen.
But yet the wind is rising and bends the grasses low.
And water beetles scurry to where the lilies grow.
And then,as from a mighty torch a sudden flashing light,
And all the sky is torn assunder, and shouts with all its might.
Again the awesome light is seen, the roaring voice is heard.
Repeating sign and sound for those who doubt the single word.
The rain begins. Huge bloated drops. First two, then three, then four.
Pattering first against the leaves before they really pour.
Bouncing on the mirrored pond and penetrating land
That welcomes it with panting love, no need of golden band.
Then just as sudden, climax reached, the rain begins to slow,
And in a sky now lightly grey appears the afterglow
Of rainbow colours smiling down to bless this mother earth.
Who from her union with the sky may perchance give birth
To all the beauty of her nature, all there is of glory.
As she makes from every day yet another story.
Yet another bright adventure, no pause to count the cost.
Its only those who feared to venture who have really lost.
Never reached to touch the stars, and let the moment slip
Away into a time now past when cup came close to lip.
For like the wraiths of steamy mist now rising from the damp,
So memories drift across my mind as softly as a lamp.
Held high so I may clearly see that life with you was sweet.
No matter that my time of bliss did fly on wings so fleet.
And now, long evening has begun, the western sky turns gold.
And as I watch the sinking sun, Im glad that I was bold.
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|Reviewed by Ch'erie de Perrot
|Rain is something we used to get for weeks on end over home, and your write certainly brings back memories.
You are a magnificent writer Flo, TY so much, and to date the only other Kiwi I know in here.
|Reviewed by m j hollingshead
|enjoy your work.... i'm glad you are posting here.....;0)...molly|
|Reviewed by Shelly Hollar (Reader)
|Excellent piece, and the art work that you put with it just seems to make it come to life.
|Reviewed by Joe McCarthy
|Ten for Summer Storm.|
|Reviewed by Cathy Montgomery (Reader)
|Oh my...simply exquisite! Very moving.|
|Reviewed by Wendi
|Goodness, this gave me goose bumps, chillie willies and shivers all over, with each of the soft, pale hairs on my arms standing on end. This well told poetic tale has one of the best morals I've ever read -- subtly positioned in the perfect place and time. Great imagery, great escape from my office -- thank you.|
|Reviewed by Deirdre Barringer (Reader)
|wow-like a story within a poem-excellent!|
|Reviewed by Lisa Parnell
|Reviewed by Theresa Koch
|I love the flow and feel of your words~JUST BEAUTIFUL~|
|Reviewed by Jo Janoski
|I think every sense was fulfilled reading this!|
|Reviewed by Jenni Kalicharan
|Reviewed by Kone Simons
|You are a poet...They need to be gathered up and put in a book. Wonderful flow and well painted words...kone|
|Reviewed by Kone Simons
|you write in so beautiful style.|
|Reviewed by anne cunningham
|lost is found, as always, love your work, look forward to it, and this one especially reminds me of the seasons up and coming. :)|
|Reviewed by angel michael
|simply woderful, WOW
|Reviewed by Charles Mann (Reader)
|this is excellent Florence,really enjoyed it,Charlie|
|Reviewed by Alain Gracio
|I wanted to take out my pallete and a canvas and start painting with you, maybe used some soft pastels colors, pale green, red, yellow, a soft blue to accentuate the sky, with its left over clouds, some supple light shadow tangerine sun. I don't maybe throw in some rock formations, I totally love this poem. Maybe someday I will be as good as you are. I hope I will. Your poem and writing inspires me
10 cheers, standing ovation
|Reviewed by jude forese
|a bold poem raining with clarity and emotion...|
|Reviewed by Janet Caldwell
Your writing amazes me, I could easily get lost in it and that's a good thing. :) Janet
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|A lovely sensuous rainfall...;-)|