The pale girl danced far ahead of me, like
a fire dances in a fir tree. I
followed hard and fast through the sweet
-scented burning incense she trailed behind her,
like a fir tree on fire. "Stop," I cried!
"Stop crying," she returned,
all bon mot and repartee jangling
like a clanging overhead rack
of brand-new saucepans, hanging
arrayed in order by size
during a comparatively mild
Then she stopped.
My feet steadying under me, I moved
forward again against a wind that had
sprang out of nowhere like a cat,
howling. I scowled, but I couldn't resist
a secret chuckle as I saw her arm twist back,
unbuckling her bustle. "This thing,"
she confided, "was slowing me down," as she let it
drop and settle towards the ground
with a rustle.
as she walked forward away from it
and on towards me, to my surprise
I saw it rise behind her in the wind,
picked up like a bubble, and drifting,
lifted. Then I couldn't see anything
because she had her head in my way,
her frizzled flaxen hair towering out in all directions
from the wind; her strong embrace nestled me in
as cords stood out on my neck from the force
of her kiss. Hot damn!
A minute later,
I realized she was terrible danger,
and I realized I was in terrible danger.
Closing our eyes, we both made the same wish.
...and I said,
"I don't care if I am,"
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
Try the RANDOM button, to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.