Here we are at week #24, and there is no sign of the light fading… this week Ashley puts the reigns on a dolphin, Cindy gets a hit of Vitamin B and I celebrate the bruising of life. Now, let your eyes fill with the lights of Friday night!
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My other ride is a dolphin. (bumper sticker)
But she is stuck in traffic.
Cottonwood seeds coat the windshield.
The wiper fluid button must be pushed
repeatedly
in her ordinary sedan
she has to yield to other cars.
Her engine burns oil.
Tension is her wave.
AM
**********
CK
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Turning my back, I would bite my tongue and go out
under the mango tree, where the fruit hung like Chinese lanterns.
Over the quarreling of bats I would curse, repeating
myself, let my head fill with bitterness.
What was it that made me hate so hard?
When now I sit under the same mango tree, the warm
flesh of fruit in my palm, it induces a bliss almost unattainable.
I know there will always be trees, always be fruit. Know
there is a sweetness waiting to be tasted.
It comes with the soft bruising of life.
GN
haha – Ashley’s poem is a cracker – love ‘tension is her wave’
and Cindy’s photo is very lavaristic! And your poem Graham is a great mix of zen and reality and I can relate to the feelings very well – walking on the beach has a similar calming effect when a person gets too angry (angry is my middle name but we can’t always change it by deed poll 
).
yeah, anger is such a strange feeling… i feel very happy that it rarely gets the better of me these days! have a great holiday Gabe!
Thanks, Gabrielle. Cindy’s photo is definitely molten. It really bridges this week’s poems. And Graham, this is one of my favorites of yours!
thanks A! I love the dolphin ride… still makes me smile!
the soft bruising of life…love that… and wish we had mango trees over here..
thanks claudia… they are such a delicious fruit and seem to appear in many of my poems of late.
Oh…that last line is absolutely perfect…one I shall recall for quite some time.
Thanks Charles… that line was the first that came to me… working backwards can be a treat.
love that solar flare of berocca – y’ c’n feel it doin’ yer good. a fine antidote to the effervescing oppositions within and between the words…
cheers! the flare seems to ignite both poems, bringing them closer together.