The road surged
Our weight painting the curve
I galloped the engine into the strawberry picking day
And if honeysuckle summers
Were finger-pinched nectar
I would touch them to your tongue
And laugh at the destruction we create
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18 comments:
Some times the easiest and best way to get where you will be is to leave the road.
This poem makes me want "honeysuckle summers" and "strawberry picking" days. I want the bike beneath me and the road blurring by. I want to feel that glorious freedom again. So very evocative!
what a sensory trip. lovely!
Ooh! The joy of long, carefree summer days!
Oh boy.. what memories. Love it
Linda
There is a reckless, Dionysian abandonment here. To laugh at destruction is thrilling, yet requires a dream-like setting like the one you've painted here.
The powerful momentum, coupled with sweetest delicacy, make for a bracing ride. Very well done. :)
We create destruction, but destruction is often necessary for creation. Summer sunshine and
laughter are the best medicine.
Life is beautiful.
;)
I hate commenting after Sarah does. :D
Her comments are like a post in themselves. She performs an autopsy of the article and make it look like the most beautiful artwork you have ever seen.
So since I can't find a better way to put it. Ditto to what she said.
All I can say, is I loved the ride your words took me on. :)
PS: No wonder she has most number of ditto's credited to her. True fact. :P
I'll ditto what Aniket said (how's that, Ani? Now you've got some dittos, too!)
Sarah is truly a master class in commenting...
:)
@ Aine:
:D :D :D
Thank you so much. :)
Ditto. Twice.
Walking Man, very true. Except for short cuts. I've been burned by so many short cuts.
Karen, I love that intensity! Carpe diem!
Shadow, it was a really transcendent day.
Margaret, and they're barely getting started!
Linda, nothing like that dance with air, motion, and freedom.
Sarah, the destruction wreaked on lesser days falls at the feet of a day like this one. And your descriptions were perfect! (And many of the following commenters seem to think so too!)
Aine, I wish we didn't need the foul to appreciate the beautiful. But it does make the sweet sweeter.
Aniket, ditto; Aine, ditto; Aniket, ditto ditto ditto; Karen, stop. (There, I believe there is Morse Code in there.)
That's funny, I was going to just say, ditto to what Sarah said, but apparently that's been done, so I'll just say, ditto to what Sarah, Aniket and Aine said. :-) Actually, I especially liked what Aine said about destruction being necessary for creation. And as every moment destructs, a new one is constructed, with a little more knowledge and honeysuckle sweetness from what came before. Nice one Jason.
i loved the concept of 'creating' distruction. beautiful, jason. you totally capture the headiness of summer.
OK, I'm in. That is beautiful play and balance in such a short poem. Delectable.
This is the time of year when we take our beloved summer vehicles out to try the roads. I love the Caledon area west of here, where roads wind and dip between hills lined with maple and birch. Sometimes the sun never shines there, and the damp leaves kick up under our wheels and swirl behind us as we negotiate the twists and turns.
Ahhh... a summer drive. Where are my keys?
Beautiful images and feelings your words written, conjure up inside of me.
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