don’t think that i talked really to the wind// he’s a barbarian

.

the wind brushes cold fingers through my hair
“i’m not interested in poetry” he says
“nor art,
nor anything that feeds– your mind
&i don’t care about
what you would call humanity”
he whispers with thick lips

i wrap a plastic bag into my shawl,
re-arrange it round my neck
“heck”

“i’m a lover to the sea though” he says
with a winning smile
“the kind of lover that knows nothing about when to stop?” i ask

he wears on me,
hammering his fists into my face//chest
lets the sea roar/dance and spill across my shoes & pants

&salad leaves fly like green/yellow insects from my plate
high in the sky
he laughs//a gurgling vortex in my ear

“oh i can’t even eat in peace” i pout

&he bows low

“play with me?” he asks with a wet seaweed tongue
“i–“
“oh come on”
my napkin tumbles in the sand
&he points at the little girl with a red kite
“see? she’s having fun– ”

&smiles that boyish smile
i can’t resist
until i run into his open arms,
eyes shut
his salty lips
raw and blistered from the sun
on my bare feet,
up the wet jeans/seams to my knees
“dang” i–”
but he has stopped to talk
&just the sea

is murmuring.

.

today at dVerse we’re writing form – any form you like to choose –  but tell us why and how – my choice is freeform with internal rhymes – seems like that is what comes most naturally to me

41 responses to “don’t think that i talked really to the wind// he’s a barbarian

  1. Ah, Claudia, you do know him well. Perhaps you more tolerant of him than I am. He has rained down on me with those vile pollen and ignited the allergies within… A great poem. I am especially intrigued with “Play with me?” he asks with a wet seaweed tongue” I may be forced to steal that line and see where it goes…

  2. I’m glad you did play. The wind can be arrogant and annoying but’s nice to run with it, especially at the beach. Like your poem. Your painting seems playful too.

  3. Ah, I love the interplay here…between the wind, the sea, and you. Sometimes a person just can’t resist their insistent call. And the waves and the sun feel sooooo good.

  4. Nice job on the closure, exactly. Who is to fight the wind? He can def get a little rough. The wind is almost like a pup, that does not mean to hurt you, he just wants to play and soesnt even realize his own strength. Nicely play C.

  5. Claudia, that painting is AMAZING!!! I’m seriously freaking out over it. Man, your work is killer.

    Well crap. The poem is just as good. I’m going to come back to this post like a thousand times. Thank you for giving me this bliss to wake up to. Definitely my favorite, girl.

      • LOVE these sections, especially:

        “i’m not interested in poetry” he says
        “nor art,
        nor anything that feeds

        he wears on me,
        hammering his fists into my face//chest

        he laughs//a gurgling vortex in my ear

        “play with me?” he asks with a wet seaweed tongue

        up the wet jeans/seams to my knees

        Certainly this is a sexy metaphor, but seriously; there is no better “lover” than the actual wind. That is seriously just about the best feeling in the world, when the wind has its nasty way with your face and hair. Pure, natural “erotica” right there.

  6. I LOVE this conversation, and could feel the wind, the sand, the water. Love the closing, when the wind finally stops and “just the sea is murmuring”. Very cool. I so miss the wind off the water.

  7. free-form with soulful realistic dialogue & internal rhymes; yes, a trillion times YES. I know it is good to study form & classic parameters, but experiencing your painting perched atop your sensual existential poetics just takes my breath away!

  8. this is lovely, Claudia! I love how some of your internal rhymes are slant rhymes. This gives the ear the hint of rhyme without being “over the top”. You have made such a character out of the wind…I can almost see a mischievous man throwing your salad leaves into the air…in addition to internal rhyme, you did a fantastic job of personification!!

  9. Ahhhh, the lover who Ahhhh, the lover who does not know when to stop and cares not for what feeds the mind. But has a winning smile and calls us to play, to have fun. Someone we can not resist.

    Nice, I understood this one perhaps. So is it anthropomorphizing the wind, or using nature to speak of a kind of lover — “naturopomorphizing”. Hmmmmm.

  10. I love your style always. It is fresh, not forced and so, so, good. I esp., love this poem about the wind- your conversation, your exasperation, your capitulation, and the girl with the red kite!

  11. Had to re-read this because I missed that “he” was the wind the first time through. I guess that’s what I get for trying to read while I’m hungry and should be making dinner. But now that it’s cooking and I could focus more, and figured out what this was about, I like it a lot.😉 Peace, Linda

  12. Spent the weekend by the sea…love the images you created with your verse…I was in the area of the oil spill…so my conversation with the wind and sea was different…we were discussing how to bring about revenge.

  13. Love! Without the internal rhyme–or maybe because it’s a conversation?–the poem is a little less dense/thick than usual, and I ease into it. What a tease the wind is! And I have known him–plays with us until he has us and then moves on. Oh yeah. And I do like the intense types. That embrace is wonderful, fantasy or real!

  14. So that barbaric wind did away with your form, Claudia? He really does sound like quite a brute… and yet.. what a nice capture of that tense, thrilling atmosphere!

  15. This personification of the wind is marvelous. And as the wind throws sand in my eyes or rips the napkin from my hands or throws leaves where I have just raked, I now know why….the wind is a barbarian! Oh I love that. The whole poem from start to finish and the internal rhymes….such a great job. And the little girl with the red kite….you always manage to throw in that bit of whimsy.

  16. Yes.. to dance with wind in salt air waters.. to become one with nature.. in watered win.. to feel the splash.. of wind upon one’s face.. is to live alive.. in splendor of the seas and airs afloat..:)

  17. I would have hidden from this wind. You are so nice to indulge his invitation. By the way, you painted this day at the beach beautifully with your words.🙂

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