When faced with a poem in school,
I giggled in boyish bravado
“how stupid: a man is a wind
and kissing the blood from her skin
he’s stealing a girl with his kisses”,
In boyish resentment of poems
we laughed at his musical words.
But in my stomach they settled,
his words of how seduction is easy
if he comes like a wind in the spring.
And his words of the wind
an evening in time of the lilacs
caressed by laburnum racemes
settled inside as suspicions and fear
and in spring perfumed with lilacs
I still hold you a little bit closer
and I’m careful with blooming laburnums.
My fear of the wind, of his kisses
and fingers tousling your hair
still lingers in shade of laburnums,
So I pick you a bouquet of lilacs,
let it fill our home with its smell
away from the wind of his kisses.
Today we have a guest-blogger at dVerse poetics. The task we’re given is to describe your very first poem that affected us, and thereafter write a poem about how that affected you and how it still affects us. When in school we read a wonderful poem “Kyssande Vind” by Hjalmar Gullberg, (“Kissing wind“) and together with the other boys I took an attitude against this and all other poetry, but his words are still lingering underneath my skin as an insecurity, and it probably still affects the style of poetry I write. Come and share your poem about another poem.
May 5, 2015