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Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Champagne in the Mud.

Perfection of Autumn, her gifts:
sunlight on frost and long rifts
in white clouds

and largest of all,
the silence of sounds,
air holding its breath.

Sounds creeping round
like a thief in the night,
his bladder inflating

there on the grass -
slow infiltration
of colours too gaudy

for nature's creation.
Twin burner-roars
to show us whose boss.

Mouse-like. Too meek
with its squeaks
speaks the basket we enter.

Earth falls away
with the voices we cherish,
relations and friends.

Sound breaks the barrier,
the mist at an end.
A chorus of sibilants sings.

From garden and field
we are reached by clear speech -
the surprise of the day.

Another in store:
earth covered with flood
water, field after field.

"There's nowhere to land.
I can't put it down!"
It's O.K. by us.

Nothing lasts, there's a field
sloping quite steeply,
Dry at one end.

Escapement of air -
for real for this once.
Then comes the jolt.

The basket is toppled,
we're thrown on the floor.

Wind towards flood
the basket is dragged,
great squelch of mud

echo of sounds
from my days as a child:
knuckles - my mum's -

rub on the washboard.
We grate on the ground,
picking up debris.

Excitement of squeals,
then corks popping out.
Champagne in the mud.

Photographs, Memories and Nostalgia, was Jingle Poetry's brief for this week.

The young lady in the photograph is my daughter. She accompanied me on my wife, Doreen's, present for my 60th Birthday.


Isabel Doyle said...

what a lovely memory and poem to accompany it. There are many lines in this piece which are quite beautiful and apt.

I wish I could say that you captured the experience perfectly - but my memories of a ballon flight are all fantasies because when my then boyfriend arranged the breakfast flight it was cancelled due to inappropriate breezes ... 25 years later he hasn't come up with the goods. I will have to remind him!

Oil painting courses said...

I like your blog. Great Article....Daniel

Maggie said...

Awesome! Someday, if I get the nerve...

Tabor said...

Something I have always wanted to try...now I have to write a poem when I do?

Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall said...

echo of sounds
from my days as a child:
knuckles - my mum's -..

this is is superb, sweet memories, prideful words.

Thanks for the treasure.

Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall said...

Happy (Belated) 60th Birthday,

Dr. King.
You Rock!

Bless your day, many happy returns.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Really gets the feel of the flight Dave. I bought the farmer one for his fiftieth birthday and he absolutely loved it.

Tigerbrite said...

Ha! Found your balloon ride. Aren't they great ?

Louise said...

You captured everything wonderfully, I was flying! Brilliant idea too, sounds like great fun.

Áine Tierney said...

Brilliant post. Love your blog by the way! I'd a scroll down and read through a few of them. I'll have to come back for a proper look!

Carl said...

wonderful poem of living life to the fullest.

Sebab said...

Glad to see that you are enjoying your life to the fullest.
Cruise Picture

Dave King said...

Yes, I strongly recommend that you do! Thanks for a lovely response.

Oil painting courses
Hi A warm welcome to you. Thanks for commenting.

It's a doddle - really. I'm no hero!

I don't think it's mandatory to write, but go, you should.

Another lovely comment. Much thanks. And for the good wishes. Many thanks again.

The Weaver of Grass
I'm sure. Did you go with him?

Indeed, they are. Welcome to you and thanks for commenting.

120 Socks
Thanks for that. Glad it came across that way. Was fun, yes.

Aine Tierney
Hi and welcome indeed to the blog.Thanks for the visit and the comment. Good to have you visiting.

Yes, happy days!


Anonymous said...

I enjoyed this prompt too and entered the potluck. This poem was an interesting read and made me want to ask for a trip for my birthday!! Ahh, I could feel the wind in my hair as we were landing with you. Good poeming.


Dave King said...

Hi and welcome to my blog. Good to have you visiting and great to have your comment. Go for it!

Helen said...

I have experienced this once - over the Rocky Mountains in Colorado - your poem is a perfect description of those emotions.