Today at dversepoets.com, we are writing about the senses, using them to embellish our poetry. I used a longer sonnet form and three too many syllables in the next to the last line...or should I not have mentioned that?;)
I Hear Banjos
I hear banjos under dusk's velvet sky
I hear banjos under dusk's velvet sky
Flickering copper flames project pictures
of where I've been since the first glint in my
parents' eyes to being a son's mother
In the fire's embers, reflections of days
of lives suspended in time, rekindled
by smoldering desire, searching byways
for a star to follow, or a signal
Strong yet tender hands pluck the banjo strings
I hear echoes of an old bass guitar,
an antebellum dusty violin,
a hoedown with mandolin or sitar
Ushered in by moonlit frosted mountains
Swallows wings switch gears, abating their flight,
carrying scents of jasmine in downturns;
they stop a second to kiss me goodnight
We feast and revel under the light of Jupiter -
joined in song by mating red-winged blackbirds
So much feast for ALL of the senses here, Kathy. Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful read, Kathy! I have great admiration for those red-winged blackbirds who have time to sing while mating! lol
ReplyDeleteThere is a wonderful rush, an excitement, to your words Kathy. A joy of life perhaps.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
"I hear echoes of an old bass guitar,
ReplyDeletean antebellum dusty violin,
a hoedown with mandolin or sitar
Ushered in" ... I especially like this section. Beautiful work.
A feast for the senses Kathy! Especially love; "Ushered in by moonlit frosted mountains, swallows wings switch gears, abating their flight,carrying scents of jasmine in downturns;they stop a second to kiss me goodnight."
ReplyDeleteSonnets are hard for me, parameters within parameters; nice to see you have o fear. Is this poem untitled? I get antsy when there is no title to bounce off of, to start from. I do envy you where you live, island lady. Of course when N. Korea lobs a nuke into Juan de Fuca, we're all in danger.
ReplyDeleteI love the swallow's wings ushered in by moonlight that stop to kiss you goodnight. That's so delicate and fascinating. It feels like a moment suspended in time
ReplyDeleteI can smell the jasmine and feel a hint of humidity on my skin. Thanks for inviting my along.
ReplyDeleteI feel a sense of longing in your poem. This made me sigh...
ReplyDelete"Swallows wings switch gears, abating their flight,
carrying scents of jasmine in downturns;
they stop a second to kiss me goodnight"
I almost feel that this is more a sensory memory than present which makes me feel a strong sense of nostalgia - like a faded photograph
ReplyDeleteI agree with Bjorn about the strong sense of nostalgia and I can also see a faded photograph in the lines: 'Flickering copper flames project pictures
ReplyDeleteof where I've been since the first glint in my
parents' eyes to being a son's mother'
I can hear the music too, the 'echoes of an old bass guitar'.
Evening is a time for nostalgia, and I love the way your poem starts off gentle and gathers momentum and colour.
ReplyDeleteI see this as a party that brings back memories from long ago, some of them one might not have thought of in a long time.
ReplyDeleteA wonderfully penned trip into the sensory...sepia tinted.
ReplyDeleteA lovely musical interlude...I was swept away under the velvet sky ~
ReplyDeleteI love the frog. Something emerges from deep waters.
ReplyDelete