It’s More Than Poetry

Cherry

By Richard L. Provencher

Sun, 06 May 2012
  • 7383 reads
18 comments
 

I’m in love with a dream.
Sloppy pants and farmer boots
hide heavy socks on a day
full of mosquito bites.
And I am not happy.
Some victims take a swig of gin
I soak myself in deet.

The dawn is what makes
me smile
a wild heart stilled
like a whispering shadow
sky ablaze—a promise of summer.

I come alive to the dance
of field and sky
and glory of daffodils
a loon’s melodic cry
red embers on a sleepy night.
I live--I live
God tells me so.

© Richard L. Provencher

Certificate U
POETRY - A Passage of Motion 3
Nature

Comments

Submitted by scratch on
Superb Richard, just superb.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thank you so much, Scratch. Your comments are so encouraging. I just love to write and am doing so more than ever. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by jolono on
Some terrific lines in this Rich,"a loons melodic cry", " a wild heart stilled like a whispering shadow". Brilliant stuff.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
I am so pleased at the reception this poem has received. Thank you, jolono. And merci, ABC team for the cerises. Rich
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by ScoZen on
Hello there RLP. Another nice on from Nova Scotia. And where would we all be without "...deet..." ? Regards.
ScoZen

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thanks ScoZen, I've used my share of Deet during past fishing days. Although the worst mosquitoes ever seen or felt were in James Bay. Ouchie. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thanks ScoZen, I've used my share of Deet during past fishing days. Although the worst mosquitoes ever seen or felt were in James Bay. Ouchie. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by scratch on
Well Richard I can't gain say the terribleness of the Mosquitos in James Bay, however the worst insect experience that I have ever had was whilste camping at Glen Brittle on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. I don't know if you've heard tell of the Scottish Midgies, but even typing this is making me scratch. Such cruel, insatiable beasties. So bad that I think Robert Burns wrote a bloody poem about them.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
You gave me an idea scratch. Why not write a ten line poem on your remembered mosquitoes and I'll do the same with my own beasties, in James Bay? Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by ScoZen on
I fled Scotland on account of midgies. The Highlands & Islands Tourist Board have now to declare their presence on the website. Oh, on Deet, its best taken with crushed ice and a touch of lemonade.
ScoZen

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Hello Scozen, I've got my mosquito (in Quebec French it's maringouin) poem up. The mosquitoes drove me to more than ten lines. Cheers, or is it ouch. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
And you too, scozen. Get in on our ten line poem on the mosquitoes you encountered, the real beasties. It should be neat. I'll place mine on my site, and you both do the same. A good challenge? Richard.
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Scozen, here is my 10 line mosquito challenge poem. As I said to Scratch, I felt guilty writing more lines than I earlier mentioned. Mosquitoes Moose River waves thrust against our starboard side causing a desperate course into a small bay. Clambering ashore we breached a spit of swampy land. Droning soon carried our gaze and bites like spears penetrated our skin and we slapped and yelped in circles but could remain no longer. Run. But mosquito bite itching lasted a very long time. © 2012 Richard L. Provencher
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by scratch on
Challenge accepted, don't hold me to a deadline though!

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Got mine up already, scratch, and forgive me for not holding to the ten lines---the mosquitoes made me do it. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Scratch, I felt guilty writing a longer poem than my challenge of ten lines. So here is my 10 lines--- Mosquitoes Moose River waves thrust against our starboard side causing a desperate course into a small bay. Clambering ashore we breached a spit of swampy land. Droning soon carried our gaze and bites like spears penetrated our skin and we slapped and yelped in circles but could remain no longer. Run. But mosquito bite itching lasted a very long time. © 2012 Richard L. Provencher
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Wow, shades of Robbie Burns, this is GOOD. See how a pertinent focus can bring out a real gem. Huzzah. Richard
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Hello PT, I remember fondly in Northern Quebec, my birthplace at Rouyn-Noranda, the woods full of no-see-ums. Little beggars so tiny you could not see, but feel their drilling through flesh and the mountainous bulge of skin afterwards, with itching for days. Scratch-Scratch, sorry Scratch. ps. thanks for taking up the challenge, and may the cherries descend upon you. Richard
Richard L. Provencher