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Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: Rain by Ian Pople

September 14th, 2018 (06:00 am)

Current Mood: awake
Current Song: The Golden Girls score music

A lexicon of words that were not
said in childhood, and all of those
that were, were said beside
an upturned boat, lapped
planking of the creosoted shed,
were said into the wind on
tussocky ground, by farm-rust vehicles.

The buildings I could not complete
without my father's help, the wind
in which I was at sea. Rain blooming
in August that moved the land
and over land toward the autumn,
sliding through the gates of summer,
feeling for the bone inside the wrist.

- Rain by Ian Pople

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Posted by: Kay McGriff (kaymcgriff)
Posted at: September 16th, 2018 09:29 pm (UTC)

I love the line "sliding through the gates of summer"

Posted by: Little Willow (slayground)
Posted at: September 16th, 2018 09:30 pm (UTC)
Re: rain

I want to see leaves carried on the wind, starting out green and turning orange and brown as they go through those gates!

Posted by: Amy Ludwig VanDerwater (Amy Ludwig VanDerwater)
Posted at: September 19th, 2018 03:13 pm (UTC)

This beautiful, beautiful imagery. I am there. Thank you.

Posted by: Little Willow (slayground)
Posted at: September 19th, 2018 03:18 pm (UTC)

Thanks for commenting!

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