Thursday, July 15, 2010

Women Who Play Like Children

We are two women
seated on a pond's edge,
listening to pickerelweeds
coil in upon themselves,
popping sounds
like frogs blowing bubbles.

Leaves curl over,
hold their tongues
until it is dark.
Random thoughts surface,
the way a fish disturbs calm waters
leaving circles of still more circles.

You go skinny dipping.
I yell to you, Can we swim to Spain
because if we can't I'm not going
to places not located by longitude and latitude.


Leaving without going
is a fickle dry run.

Ponds are so self-contained.

Linda Watskin © 2010

Big Tent Poetry

10 comments:

  1. I just LOVE the line: "Leaves curl over,/hold their tongues/until it is dark." This is really a lovely poem.

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  2. Very beautiful and nearly mesmerizing read.

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  3. Linda this is a beautiful poem!
    I love the third stanza about swimming to Spain!
    Pamela

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  4. Beautiful Linda! Ponds, their borders keep us contained, too, eh? :-)

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  5. Really like the poem and the richness of images in each stanza creates ripples of circles within circles. Beautiful piece.

    Elizabeth

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  6. "pickerelweeds" is a great word, with which I'm totally unfamiliar! Your poem sounds lovely; soft evening noises.

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  7. A wonderfully soundfull poem! It sings of mystery, magic and mellow.

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  8. Lovely poem. It had me at "We." Something in it really touched my heart.

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  9. I like the idea of women playing like children, and you have given the idea a very appealing substance.

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  10. Can we swim to Spain
    because if we can't I'm not going
    to places not located by longitude and latitude.
    -- I could hear this yelled across the pond. This is a joyful poem!

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