Donald Harbour Poetry

“I hope I can be the autumn leaf, who looked at the sky and lived. And when it was time to leave, gracefully it knew life was a gift.” ~ Dodinsky

Face half shadowed,
A tilt of the head,
There a smile crinkles,
(Is this for me or a memory?)

A slight sweet scent,
Still air gently moved,
The rustle of your gown,
(How you fill my life and senses.)

The clock is counting,
Between dark and dawn,
There is no sleep,
(Paradise does not pick its time.)

Finger tips touched,
Soft warm hair caressing,
Skin burns with desire,
(Love’s language has been spoken.)

siggiofmaine on 31 August 2011 at 12:57 PM said:

I am new this summer to writing anything other than free form poetry or Haiku…
your post has helped me understand this prompt…thank you. I enjoyed reading your post.

☮ Siggi in Downeast Maine

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Irene on 31 August 2011 at 5:19 PM said:

Oh wow. I love stanza 2.

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mareymercy on 31 August 2011 at 11:03 PM said:

Paradise does not pick its time.

I love that line!

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ms pie on 1 September 2011 at 1:35 PM said:

a magic moment in a moonless night… it is a beautiful response to this week’s prompt…

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Mr. Walker on 2 September 2011 at 7:31 PM said:

Donald, this is just lovely. Paradise is where and when you find it.

Richard

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neil reid on 3 September 2011 at 9:44 AM said:

Oh I won’t write an essay but this poem does so much, be it a gentle touch, with such elemental moments, slowly slowly built upon itself. (Don’t like saying “it” however because the poem is intimately human of stance.) Your poem delivers right on the title. Thanks Donald.

neil

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