Metaphor And Memory

Now, after the storm, clouds

Hung up to dry on power lines,

Billowing in the breeze,

 

And after all these years, still

Bed sheets white and wind-whipped,

Still hanging in the tension and flexion

 

Of a moment that cannot last, yet does,

Still that moment before they fold

And fall again back into themselves,

 

Back in the year I could finally reach

The sagging line of rope,

The taste of wooden clothespins.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 425 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2011-05-17 at 15:31

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shells
Love the first two lines, your metaphors are strong throughout, lending this piece an air of nostalgia that I can identify with which brings me to my youth in the final stanza, a nice place to be. A deserving front page and applaud.
2011-05-18


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the front page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry web site.
2011-05-17


Rob Graber
Oops! Make that "Calls."
2011-05-17


Rob Graber
PS: For another great clothesline-inspired poem, check out Richard Wilbur's "Love Call Us to the Things of This World."
2011-05-17


Rob Graber
Beautifully done; the sensory shift at the end from sight to touch and even taste are unexpected, and enormously effective. BRAVO!
2011-05-17