This summer I made a bonfire of my loves.
Beneath the pregnant clouds and still air
Of the sweltering nights, as the breeze died,
My remembrances of us together - yellow
Like the oleander, thespesia and laburnum -
I let them burn, and lend themselves to the ash.
They scatter as the rising wind whistles, playing
Chinese whispers with the fresh-leaved trees;
The dust has a new smell: rain at last, rain at last!
This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at RateMyLiterature.com and republished at tapestrypoetry.webs.com.
View the full tapestry here.
What is tapestry poetry?
Beneath the pregnant clouds and still air
Of the sweltering nights, as the breeze died,
My remembrances of us together - yellow
Like the oleander, thespesia and laburnum -
I let them burn, and lend themselves to the ash.
They scatter as the rising wind whistles, playing
Chinese whispers with the fresh-leaved trees;
The dust has a new smell: rain at last, rain at last!
This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at RateMyLiterature.com and republished at tapestrypoetry.webs.com.
View the full tapestry here.
What is tapestry poetry?
Comments