Today is both the last day of National Poetry Month and Poem-in-Your-Pocket day. To find out more on both of these subjects, go here. And it's been a pleasure to stretch to meet these challenges every day. Thank you, Stephanie Abney, for orchestrating the challenge each year. My hat's off to you.
And now, I give you....Five Senses Poem:
|The Milky Way--a great place to spend some time, don't you think?|
Before my closed eyes, I see the universe arrayed in diademic splendor, each star a gem, each galaxy dazzling in its glittering perfection. When I open my eyes, the faded familiarity of my dusty bookcases.
I close my eyes once more and the scent of searing chiles and the odors of leather and wool, sweat and rich fragrance of flowers greet my nose, as if I crouched in an Argentine marketplace.
|A marketplace in Argentina.|
The cries of the hawkers greet my ears. Diario! Diario! A newsboy with his dusty bag full of papers and a winning smile saunters past. The parrot on his shoulder caws, "Diario!" in its owner's voice. The cries fade to the thunder of crashing waves.
|The monkey went everywhere. It was a game to tuck it somewhere on a person without them knowing it. Amazingly it still came home with me.|
The salt spray peppers my skin, and I know I'm once again on a rocky outcropping in Ireland, along the Cliffs of Moher. I clamber up the scattering of rocks and boulders to lie prone on the cliff-top, the gravel digging into my front as I hold myself out beyond the cliff. The wind tries to snatch me from my perch.
|Tea at the castle. Very proper and delicious. Afterwards the shenanigans resulted, but that's another story.|
I am pulled back to Dromoland castle, to a tea party shared by my mother and sisters and I. Pinkies out, ladies. The scones with delicate clotted cream and tart currant jam play about my lips, drawing out a sumptuous smile. The little cakes and watercress sandwiches tasted of opulence and a happiness shared.
|Two of the sisters NOT involved in shenanigans enjoying their chamomile.|
Thank goodness for making memories, for filling the imagination with points of light. I pity those who live only in the machines of other people's manufacturing.