janvier rains rinsed away
the festivities
as you walked into my life.
frost of fevrier numbed me,
depression,
raised only by
your conker brown
cinnamon hair, in mars,
smelling as sweet as
the daffodils which
blossomed,
saffron heads of avril.
And more heads were
turned your direction
as mai
closed and juin
sprang forth,
spraying sunshine.
beach visits
inflamed my feelings
under a juillet ray,
as aout thrust in
my body oozed you,
sweat scintillating
in septembre hues
of amber,
bronzing
you like a medal,
(my souvenir).
then octobre
covered you in wools
while novembre
saw you home,
back, across the
waves,
and decembre
rains rinsed away
the festivities
as you walked out of my life.
Comments
Doeslittle | May 13, 2008 - 18:00
Lovely. Excellent. Some really good lines. For example,
'your conker brown
cinnamon hair, in mars,
smelling as sweet as
the daffodils which
blossomed,
saffron heads of avril.'
I can't decide what I think of the Frenchie months though. I like it one minute, it's an interesting idea, it sounds nice in the poem, but the next I think it's a bit contrived, unnatural...that french and English don't sit nicely together, spoken side by side. (No xenophobia intended, coughs...'Waterloo') Oh I dunno. Good to see a poem from you though and a lovely one.
LawOfTheOne | May 13, 2008 - 19:38
Thanks for the comment doeslittle, glad you enjoyed it. The french is there to signify the person in question. Rather than just say they're french, this adds romanticism (I hope). It's quite a straightforward poem, I guess, so I wanted to mix it up a bit/do something different, I suppose.
LawOfTheOne | May 15, 2008 - 16:16
Thanks for the cherry!
tarashannon | June 3, 2009 - 11:06
Nice idea, I liked reading it