urban farmhouse at twilight
there is the subtlest of breezes from full-flung windows where the world
comes in, dragging its day-end noises: settling birds, slowing traffic.
It smells still of dark coffee & morning-baked bread. someone
coughs. the last sighs of light reflect against glass and chrome;
shadows pool between the cobbles. a scrape of chairs as this place
slowly empties, we the dregs of what had been an over-full cup.
my wine is sweeter with every
swallow.
fluorescent heartbeat,
a new green pulses lamplit;
last lip-stained-glass kiss.
very lovely
April 3, 2012 at 9:21 am
And I am there. You have a great talent for writing detailed but alive descriptions – makes me feel like I am there. Great job, lady!
April 3, 2012 at 12:47 pm
thanks, man. a compliment like that from you is a compliment indeed.
April 5, 2012 at 11:08 am
nice. so am i going to get to hear this on the 13th…really great descriptions and i could clearly hear you in it…we the dregs…that is when the fun really begins isnt it?
April 3, 2012 at 5:08 pm
hah! depends a little on who’s with you there in the dregs, i think. *smiles* speaking of, it’ll be great to see (and hear!) you next Fri.– seems it’s been far too long.
April 5, 2012 at 11:11 am
Beautiful and evocative, like a faint fragrance that brings back a strong memory.
April 3, 2012 at 5:45 pm
Very atmospheric.
No cigarette smoke and now stale beer?
good place to be to end the day in.
I can so hear that scraping of the metal chair on the pavement.
April 3, 2012 at 6:41 pm
Such strong, vivid images. Really like the layout too, like a miniature prose poem.
Great work.
April 3, 2012 at 7:56 pm
thank you. i meant that first part to come off prose-ish, so i’m glad it worked. 🙂
April 5, 2012 at 11:13 am
Beautiful. A painting with words. But I have to go wash my wine glass.
April 3, 2012 at 7:57 pm
Love this !
April 3, 2012 at 8:01 pm
beautiful words… and such a deep imprint. the best thing i’ve read so far all day
April 3, 2012 at 10:34 pm
wow. reading this just made me blush. thank you!
April 5, 2012 at 11:14 am
I read this a second time aloud, because I could sense that the alliteration and onomatopaeia of your verses – “full-flung windows where the world
comes in, dragging its day-end noises” – would taste wonderful on the tongue… and I was right! Excellent poem, and a beautiful display of craftsmanship.
April 3, 2012 at 10:44 pm
thank you so much, Samuel. that means a lot to me, from you.
April 5, 2012 at 11:15 am
These descriptions are so crisp. For me, they evoked a few summer months that I lived /studied in Paris a long while ago. The buildings so close to one another, open windows…you felt like you were intruding on the lives of others.
April 3, 2012 at 10:56 pm
oh, don’t talk about Paris! i’ve already got such a case of wanderlust going… 🙂 I remember Paris in April…. *sighs*
April 5, 2012 at 11:18 am
This is beautiful. I love it. The last 3+ lines are perfect art.
April 3, 2012 at 11:52 pm
i don’t know about “perfect art,” Carl, but thank you; thank you.
April 5, 2012 at 11:16 am
Nice imagery in every line. Really paints a good picture. 🙂
April 4, 2012 at 3:19 am