Middle Age

[Bernie01]

I

Sun spanks the high widows
of our flat, my wife turns gold
as baked bread, cheekbones
graded metal hard.

Sable sheen thighs.

II

Hand painted afternoons.
Cellophane wrapped days.
The heat heavy as base drum.
We walk among dark geese,
hazel glean of the pond.
Muscatel nights, my thoughts
become pagan crows.

III

No rain. Unseasonable dry.
Dust falls light as ermine,
I return our rented horse,
he is downcast, trods sand
like Alexander the Great
rebuffed at Ai-Khanoum.

IV

New owners claim our room,
nail wedding photos on walls
like killed mallards.

Faded lawn ducks raise web
feet in bon voyage.

[Kenneth2816]

Nice imagery. I esp. love "pagan crows" preceding Alexander

His horse was named Bucephalus, conjoined with the rental horse.

Then nailed mallards as to faded lawn ducks, a commentary for the newly weds on how most marriages end up.

You're always as good with what is not said.

[BobBradshaw]

Another excellent one, Bernie... I thought the image of the thighs swept clean by divers worked better in the original posting of this poem...otherwise no nits... the horse image is outstanding

[SivaRamanathan]

An excellent evolving poem.I should have copy pasted the original draft.

[Bernie01]

Bob---

agreed. i've removed the sea diver, he/she will swim no doubt in another pom.


Ken---

staying in control of the imagery---making a coherent pom. alas, will keep writing, but so far we agree on the lines you mention.


Siva---


will stop here on this one. and thanks for stopping with the pom,.



bernie