For days the sun is gone taking the sky with him
The Med frets in heavy dark sighs
She carries dead sea grasses
Leaves them on pebbles
Like torn burned letters
She melts away in shades of green and grey
Dissipates in a dreamy haze
Her longing billows
Piles up against the Maures*
Falls back along slopes
Shreds on brown sugar rocks
Only bird songs in crystal notes
And white elusive butterflies
Slip and glide through
Scents of confused blossoms
who mingle and play
In moisture laden air
He will come back I tell her
She shrugs
Then slaps a pier
With a rogue ripple
* Massif des Maures. Mountains surrounding Medville
unbuttoned or undone 
Beautiful.
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If this was a painting, it would be a sublime Constable.
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Too much praise my friend, I am just a little watercolorist. But thank you.Your words mean a lot.
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Une histoire qui chante.
Un poeme qui fait la magie.
Une performance qui transporte.
Bravo!
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Tu vois, je peux apprendre!
Merci. Tu es toujours gentil.
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She shrugs
Then slaps a pier
Oh how I like this line.
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🙂 Makes my day.
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Love it… Love it…. Love it…. brown sugar rocks
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Thank you! I was dreaming delicious.
Hugs.
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Just waving to say hello to my good friend
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Waving and smiling. Hi Noel. Good to see you my friend.
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Same here, been a while since these two friends spoke to each other
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What a character this Med! How capricious!How passionate!
Of course, “For days the sun is gone taking the sky with him”. what a strong image: absence/presence.
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Merci Michal.
She is what she is and does what she does. I just report the story ma’am.
🙂
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I am too much of a Neanderthal to truly appreciate poetry, but I second John’s comment.
That is a great phrase.
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Thanks Ark I appreciate your stopping by. I doubt that you are a Neanderthal, I really do. Poetry is like a picture. Sometimes the lines get you and sometimes it’s textures, rhythm or color. Sometimes it leaves you cold too. Not every poem is a work of art you know. 🙂
I am glad you liked that line.
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Are you living near the Med?
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Yes I am. A resort town in the South of France, which I call Medville ( to protect the innocent;-) of course). It boasts 9500 inhabitants in the winter and 3x that in the summer months.
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Sounds perfect.
I have family in Portugal near Porto and if I am fortunate to be able to one day write books for a living instead of merely for fun I would love to find a small town and park off.
Though the weather in Johannesburg might be tough to give up!
I had friends in the South of France many moons ago, in a small town called Labruguiere.Though it is listed as a city with a pop. of around 5000.
My friend’s dad used to be the manager of a local paper mill.
It is a short distance from Castres and about 60 klms from Toulouse if memory serves.
Sadly we lost touch.
C’est la vie, n’est pas? 🙂
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I drove through Labruguiere a month or so ago!
I don’t know about the weather in Johannesburg but in spite of all my moaning about gray skies, We can’t complain. 26C at noon yesterday. 21C today, still wearing sandals…
May be you should try to reconnect with those old friends. Most likely they would be thrilled to hear from you.
Et oui, c’est la vie. On se perd de vue et le temps passe.
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You drove through Labruguiere!
Is that kismet or what?
Well, I don’t know what your memory is like but my friends house was outside the town on an acre of land surrounded by dykes. It was set apart and on the right hand side as you drove from Labruguiere toward Castres.
We went “hunting’ for escargot in the ditches around the property one evening by torchlight!
I have tried! Facebook, letters etc. I fear they have moved on. The parents must be really old by now even if they are alive, and their son, Patrick, may not even be in the country.
Funny, my own folks were asking after them a couple of months ago.
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Definitely kismet because I got turned around and drove in the wrong direction after leaving Carcassonne!
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Carcassone…Love the place.
Spent the day there once.
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It’s magic. I fall in love again each time I visit.
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Something you might like…
http://attaleuntold.wordpress.com/2013/11/01/the-table-2/
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