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Nor'easter
by Anita MacYour pocket is Heavy with need, and…
She is maple syrup and sun-splayed lilacs.
Her mind is an oak forest
riddled with stone walls
and houses that are nestled in unobtrusively.
Her pulse is set by waves crashing
onto the rocky beaches below lighthouses
and in her veins flow
the same streams that meander
through the White Mountains.
She is from small towns where every road is
a surname
a history
a ghost story.
She is crisp October air and a pint of Sam.
Would you condemn her
for simply enjoying
those nights she had to herself?
12/03/2009 Posted on 12/04/2009
Copyright © 2024 Anita Mac
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by V. Blake on 12/04/09 at 05:37 AM "She is from small towns where every road is / a surname / a history / a ghost story. / is crisp October air and a pint of Sam." I love the idea of every road being a ghost story--there's a thought I'll be kicking myself later for not having had myself. And that last part? Well that sounds like the kind of girl worth falling in love with. |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 12/05/09 at 12:04 AM well, i'd rather her be crisp October air and a pint of dogfish head 90 minute ipa. 8-p this is seriously excellent though! |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 12/11/09 at 04:33 AM This is beautiful. The last stanza though, gave me a whiplash as it sends quite a different message than what is written before it. So I sit here, stunned, with a smile and say, this is quite good, my dear! |
| Posted by Richard Vince on 12/14/09 at 09:09 PM oh, that is seriously beautiful. i must also echo the last sentence of Mr Blake's comment, unsurprisingly. :) i hope she's real, because i like the idea of sharing a world with her. |
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