Saturday, September 26, 2009

Summer Poems

The jolly men hold their bellies
and rock and rock, as they laugh

at the women holding their skirts
above saggy knees and elephant ankles.

How they laugh at the idea of tanning
such baggy, blobby legs.

Who'd ever want to look at them?
The women stir, fan hot red faces,

and talk a mirage of romance beneath boardwalks,
sunbrown muscles luring eyes and hands

to places parents forbade. Their talk weaves them
into the silky girls they once were, weaves them

into tapestries of memory.
The jolly men lapse to stillness

as they feel again the sift of sand
shuffled down between the planks across bare backs.


Blogger Chris Never said...

ooooo, I really like this kid, it captures the wistful nature of youth and its passing so beautifully, definitely one to be published this one I reckon.

3:33 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...


sigh, I dunno. I sort of find all my writing to be lack lustre these days.

Everything I write sounds trite and forced to me.

8:19 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

You sound a lot like the internal dialogue going on in my head most of the time *grin*

I refuse to write until it becomes somehow brilliant, it could take some time.....

This is an excellent piece of writing kid, trust me.

4:04 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

well thank you very much.

As for writing becoming brilliant, yeah, I wish for the same thing, but I try to think about all the thousands of poems that famous poets wrote that were good, but not brilliant, y'know?
I mean, often it's just a handful of their poems that are really lauded. Their standard is generally quite high of course, but not every poem they wrote was a gem of pure genius.

I try to take heart from that, lol.

I'm headed over to Brisbane on Tuesday next week, so I would really appreciate it if you could arrange for all the earthquakes, tsunamis, dust storms, etc to have settled down by then. Ta

4:21 PM  

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