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Thursday, July 21, 2011

Friday Double!

Dry Well

I reach into the well

For water, cool and clean.

The bucket comes up empty.

No laughter, no joy spilling over

Splashing on the rocks.


I squint into the bucket, caught off guard,

Run my hand along the rough metal of prior use,

And rusted hope stains my fingers.

I can feel the iron's cold impassivity,

Metallic, foreign, lifeless.


But what of the water?

Where has it gone?

Leaked out into the desert around?

Evaporated in the scorching sun?

Dried and withered, leaving gouges,

hardening in the mud?


I will wait for the rains.

Mend the cracks in the wall

and pray for the rains.

Pray that they come soon,

Filling creeks, springing life


Cascading with light and laughter,

Tumbling merrily over rocks,

Dancing in freedom and hope

as it flows through the land

Then perhaps, in time, the well will fill again

And we can draw water, pure and clear.



A friend
Through the gate and down the ...high street
Past rows of houses to the village outskirts
Cool red brick and sun dappled hedges dissolve
Into quiet green havens on rich loamy dirt.
A dream carries me

I peddle down trails towards this oasis
Calmly expectant of what will be there
Shimmering coats cloaking elegant forms
Long flowing tails and nostrils that flare
I long to see

Bike leaned against the old wooden fence posts
I snatch at cool grass, quickly filling my fist
Sneaking one hand past heavenly gates
Held open, revealing juicy grass wisps
And I wait…

Watching each move of these beautiful creatures
Gleaming in sunlight, whether chestnut or bay
Hoping they’ll come to eat this poor offering
Before casual breezes steal it away.
And it is too late

Sometimes each step as they graze slowly brings them
Near to the fence that forever divides
And my heart lifts in hope that I’ll briefly taste freedom
Whispered in snuffles of horse-murmured sighs
Of understanding

Warm neck of soft satin, smoothing my fingers
Steadfast heart calmly echoing low
Gentle companionship soothing my soul
Nickers of comfort and peacefulness flow.
And my soul sings.

I see in his soft eye galloping meadows
Joyful canters through pine scented trees
Feeling the ground churned by his hooves
The breeze swirling with him amongst dancing leaves
Without end.

He shares all of these for a handful of grass
And crops there beside me, just over the fence
And I bathe in his presence as minutes slip slowly
Enthralled by his beauty, lost in the scent
Of a friend.


9 comments:

Mystic_Mom said...

This is so lovely, I want to make a video or photos of it!

Zoe said...

That would be lovely! Thank you and I am so glad the images spoke to you!

Diana Lee said...

I love 'Dry Well'. "And rusted hope stains my fingers" ~ great line.
Thanks for stopping by my page earlier. Lovely to meet you :)

moondustwriter said...

your double really fit well together - together they give me a summery Americana feel

I love the tactile sense you insert into your work - great to meet you through Jenne - hope for much more

Timoteo said...

Dry Well...life's ups and downs...hope the rains come and drench us!

Lovely poem.

jen revved said...

Lovely, once more, Zoe... a bit ol' William Butler Yeats in you, I think-- do you know his work? You'd love it..xxxj

Zoe said...

Hi Diana Lee - lovely to meet you too - I'm sure we will see each other again! Thank you for your encouragement!

Moonduster - your comment fascinates me (being an Aussie!). THAT is what I love about poetry - it is so intensely personal that every person reads their own feeling and expression into it! :D Thankyou for stopping by and I hope to see you again soon!

Timoteo - for me that's the beauty of life - learning to explore the downs whilst we wait for the ups. Thank you for stopping by!

Jen - I am glad you liked them! I am not terribly well read, I'm afraid but I will definitely go and have a look at his work. My main poetry inspiration (that had me fall in love with poetry years ago) is an Aussie - Bruce Dawe. His use of irony strikes deeply in me. Talk later!

Sean Vessey said...

I liked the twin punch of the double - very visually stimulating. I would like to hear you read them.

Zoe said...

Sean, thank you! Being both about friendship, they seemed to go well together, even though very different types of friendship. I would love to find a poetry group and hear some spoken words too! Thank you for stopping by!