The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 3/2/08

[BlueIris]

"Alive"

At two a.m. my eyes open, blinking
like a soft alarm, and I turn to see
that you, too, are awake, both of us listening
to the distant scraping of the snowplow
slicing and curling the moon-lit sludge
to the edge of the road. Instinctively
I turn on my side towards you
and run my hand the smooth length,
reaching below the knee and gliding up
to your breasts, thiry-five years of touching
and still the wonder of it. At fifty-eight,

not young, not old, the increasingly difficult
in between time, your parents in their eighties,
mine late seventies, our son married with a
child, our daughter undecided. Yesterday,
on our way home, we saw two men
digging a grave, dark figures slipping in
and out of the blowing white, the visual
equivalent of static, and then nothing.
Tomorrow, a foot of snow, cancellations,
the damn driveway to dig out again.
Tonight, the arched offering of your body.

—Roger Pfingston

[BlueIris]

1. Don't make me start posting the scary poems again.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

2. My dear BlueIris!

I just love love love this one!

It speaks to me...

Thank you so much for it!

:hug:

[BlueIris]

3. :-)

[BlueIris]

4. Kick.

[Zephyrbird]

5. I liked this one a lot.

It really touched me.

Life, sound intruding, not interrupting pleasure in life.

Life and death still try to interrupt and reminding us of our mortality, yet existence is reaffirmed with wonder and passion.

Ahhhhh, I liked this a lot.

[ThomCat]

6. That sounds like a good life.

:)

Nothing at all like mine.

It's amazing how just a few well chosen words really make a pretty thorough snapshot of a life.