Monday, May 2, 2011

Falling on Our Heads

Dripping leaves
billow over chutes of bark
that scrape our backs
as we clutch the aged grooves with haste.
Your arms drape around my shoulders
from behind,
blocking raindrops as if
they were fatal
and holding me as I grasp the trunk.
We laugh
with the realization of our youthful
existence.
You spin me around and I face you.
You
and your blue eyes that make waves
when droplets fall from your lashes.
You
and your thin wisps of drowned, knotted hair
that's drips dissipate in the folds of your
soaked shirt.
You and your fingertips
that stroke my slippery cheek
and pull my chin toward yours.
Raindrops cling to our skin,
trickling down your forehead
to my nose
as we,
young and blind,
turn to smile at the dark sky.

8 comments:

P@NW@REL@L said...

Another beautifull poem i love the image you have created....but it's been a long time since your'e lastpost. Do write more cause they are lovely

P@NW@REL@L said...

and yeah the grenades do kind of blow up the image mid way something more apt with the image would be better...it's just my thoughts anyways

P@NW@REL@L said...

Love the image the poem creates...It's really beautiful but the grenade do seem kind of out of order in the imagery...would have been better if you had used something more apt to the image

Bela said...

Thank you very much! Hm, a great point. I'll look into that :)

And thanks for stopping by!

T.A. Chance said...

I disagree. "Grenade" is the least harsh word you can use in this situation and still get your point across.
Don't change a thing, Miss Bela.

P@NW@REL@L said...

Those were just my thoughts....and do keep posting i love them

Bela said...

Much appreciated, P@N! Will do. Thanks to you, too, Chance..I'll see what I can do to fix this poem up :)

Gina said...

Seeing the poem post-grenade issue, I can't even quite tell where it would have gone. The only problem I have with this is "knotted hair that's drips dissipate in the folds of your soaked shirt." I don't know what "that's" is supposed to mean, maybe you meant something else. Other than that one word, I think this is a lovely poem. Glad to see you're still writing.