Poetry (7)

Hello Escritori,

It’s that time of the week again… and if anyone was interested I’m a Aries actually!




The air is thick with pale grey cloud

Tinged with drizzle

Augmented with smog.

Even here. In the park.


Despite this the trees

Are eternally green.


The grass,

(August grass)

Is striated with straw

Parched gold patches

With green. Like corn.


I can feel the air-borne water,

Mist, breeze-blown on my face,

I rifle it through my fingers

While walking. I am urging

The earth to drink: without cease.


I didn’t expect the storm

With heavy rain and thunder.


But to me it’s all one.

Because the parting

Gift of the storm

Is a sense of


(© Copyright Pola Negri 13/08/2015.)


One thought on “Poetry (7)

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