A South Carolina July night
way back in nineteen sixty five
summer air so warm and damp
it almost seems alive
Lying beneath an open window
before universal conditioned air
watching fire flies on the screen
hearing a desultory bark somewhere
Sheets and pillow wet with sweat
sleep seems so very far away
air so thick it comes in bites
mind keeps reviewing the past day
A silent flash of distant storm
long delayed thunder rumbles, deep
at last a cool breeze from the window
finally wafting me to sleep
Comments
hi Ian
Sorry about putting you to sleep lol............stan
And... ?
So you described something, big deal. I want content.
hi there
The only content intended was to recall what it was like trying to fall asleep on a stuffy summer night back before widespread use of air conditioning. Not every poem has to have earth shaking insights and social implication..................stan ( better watch out or I'll challenge you to do a woodland narrative lol)
prose tells simple stories,
poetry tells sonething more.
You are a man of and talented, but you are copping out on what poetry can really do. You lose my respect for this
hi Jess
Surely you don't expect everything I write to be a masterpiece? If so you are gonna be sadly disappointed most of the time. Remember ; writers write...... just not always well.......stan
poetry is not cuteness, or it will die.
'try harder.
hi
some poetry SHOULD die and this may well be an example of such lol. But I guess I'll just keep plodding along and try to improve in my methodical baby stepping way...............stan
Yes. And I keep repeating...
Yes. And I keep repeating..... we write in our own mediocrity (the median: on a bell curve) sometimes we rise gloriously above and sometimes abysmally below.
Even the best world-class poets have their own bell curve. Though the extremes are not quite as extreme.
~A
hi Anna
Good to see that somebody here understands that it is not my intent to have every poem I post be compared against the really great poets.................stan