Monday, 1 September 2014

Frangipani











Each velvet-soft frangipani memory
falls on a bank then washes away
with the tides into the light of the sea
hovering between a darkness and a day.


An old woman, with gnarled tree fingers
stoops to pick a handful for her apron
but waves flash one burst of gold and silver
snatch them in and then forever darken.


A sparrow pecks at mud for unseen insects
and calls the flock and cocks its head and waits
and rushing wings do come out and connect
but all the same find nothing, it’s too late.


The last ferry, with a blast on its horn, pulls
through silk-dark rivers, frangipani petals.







8 comments:

  1. Hi Nila - frangipani is such a lovely tree - so special and so fragrant .. the photo is great. Gnarled too .. lovely poem - thank you - Hilary

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    1. Grows freely in all places I have lived :) thanks for reading

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  2. A beautiful poem dedicated to wondrous nature, all the scenes are so mesmerising.

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    1. Glad you liked the poem, easy to be mesmerised by nature. Thanks.

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  3. silk-dark rivers carrying flowery verses spreading fragrance enthralling the mind for a moment :)

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    1. My idea is to remain enthralled for as long as possible :) :) thanks for coming by

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  4. Reading your last few works, it's like coming home, Poetry so very, very powerful, but you are its master!

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    1. That is the nicest compliment on this blog! Thank you, Yolanda. Hope things are going well.

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