This afternoon
There are no dancing sun rays
Clouds having run themselves into
The ceiling of heaven
And bled the black of the night sky
Into the day
Gray surrounds like chimney smoke
And heavily cloaks
What should be the weightlessness of summer
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Author:
Lorna (
Offline) - Published: August 21st, 2025 15:29
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Doggerel Dave
Offline)
Comments3
A fave for such inventife images that paint the picture
Didn't know you lived next door - been raining continuously for a week and I mean heavily. Only detail you are mistaken about is 'summer'.
You have described my position with poetic precision - it's pissing down....
Seriously - defines my experience in great poetic form. Thanks Lorna.
I see you looking forlornly out the window ... cup in hand.... hopefully just tea....... oh to live in Aussie land in the rain...........(instead of Nazi land in August).
Loose Assam - loverly. But depending on the time of day could be, having developed a respect for the chemical in my twenties after one or two disasters, a moderate amount of alcohol.
With respect to your political commentary, I've already made mine on the State of your Union ("Stand Clear...) and feel it would be discourteous to elaborate further; would just like to add though, that many moons ago I spent two weeks in New York and found it (again) loverly, though perhaps 'many moons ago' might be significant...
It was loverly (NYC) and of all parts of this country it is probably the most anti orange man... but for me I think it's just "modern" that turns me off. I like "before"...... I'm happy there.
So long as you are happy, stay with it. Dismiss the rest if you can.
Take care, Lorna.
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