General Poetry posted September 23, 2022


Itâ??s right before Apriling.

Marching

by Brady Bowen

the winds rush by in March 
it’s the busy season of breezes 
a long list of doing-things; thankless 
here arrives the lumbering, horse-drawn 
cartwind carrying pioneers of precipitation 
from the spacious western skies 
delivering the deluge of Mississippi swelling
our American Nile; unfull of crocodiles 

Turn your face to the South 
there’s the lady of gulfbirthed warmth
gently she strokes the teeming blue 
her touch is like your mother’s hands 
making pain fade instantly; hear that? 
her sigh is silken unhurried honey 
But have a care for her summer raging 
a temper-tempested sunlit sociopathy 

From the north there’s an icy import 
like weather-whiskey, this one is bearded 
with the hoarfrost of the millenia
our dear March beats back his short forays
go take your mountained rest, old man 
enjoy your arctic dotage for a season 
your labours begin in earnest again soon
For you to force the lady of the land to sleep 

The news-bringer, the wild-eyed eastern galewoman, lashes all within her reach
with the salted tears of undersea shipyards 
her collection of silent bones sing dirges
the music of the melancholy spirit 
unheard but not unnoticed in the sand 
inhabited by her scaled and shelled subjects 
her gaze is westward bright, coldblooded



Poem of the Month contest entry

Recognized

#89
September
2022
Pays 8 points and 62 member cents.


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