Monday, June 27, 2011

the heat of august



 

buttercream clouds
melt into a raspberry sky
as the dew of morning
holds fast 
confirming a humid afternoon mow

thoughts go
the heat of august will soon be lost
in the felling
of clover sweeten, sickled low

but it is a sighing,
mine
that stirs the memory
of your smile
against the graining of wood laid straight
that met up with the shutting
of a morning's door

I let mix
my mind with the movement
of the suns shadow
pushing past to close
all shutters draping the westend
walls, knowing
there is still much a defining, a pruning, a setting
of things right prior
to the dusking
of a summers day

yet, the I in me drifts,
floats towards the pulling of hours fast
and I find myself pacing
the vintage faced keeper, find my hands
pondering the powdering
of my breasts, one than two
a cubed cooling - cleansing of my throat

as I lift my hair higher
from the backside of my warm neck, then
in slowed release, it falls
only
to cascade
the sky's haze stretched long in silhouette -
a screenplay longer
cast now in the dusted denim
that carries you back
across the wooden floor of our morning
straight back -

into the fielding
of my soft, my fertile
need - to cool the heat of august
with the scent of sweat, sweeten
by the
felling of clover

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Posted for One Shot Wednesday

29 comments:

  1. This is an incredibly rich read, layered with images and scents. It makes one think, to try to read what is not being said. I love the play of light and shadows and wood grains through the poem. It is very lovely. Romantic!

    ReplyDelete
  2. you create quite the atmosphere...i have a bit of stake in it too as august is my birthday month...an intimate moment with yourself as well about half way through...

    ReplyDelete
  3. I have had these buttercream clouds in my mind for a few weeks...they took me into august....bkm

    ReplyDelete
  4. That is an incredibly sexy poem.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Yes, you speak with an August voice, love all the images you create, want to just stop and wait awhile. Lovely, loving...

    ReplyDelete
  6. A sexy August voice, yes... This is calming soothing, and sultry. A rich read...
    ~brenda

    ReplyDelete
  7. A rich and lush feel, the tension building like heat inside a barn in your raspberry August, sweetened with the smell of cut clover. Very evocative, and beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Amazing as always! I am so there, right down to the hair sticking to the back of my neck and the buttercream clouds. You have managed to capture the timeless passing of a season, teasing us with our own memories and associations, yet making clear this is a time that belongs to you. Fantastic piece. (and another repititive comment from me...but when you're good, you're good...there's only so many ways to say it! lol) You're work is one of the reasons I'm addicted to Oneshot Wednesday! :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. You captured every single part of August, the humidity at it's peak and adding your own past events to it. Great Write!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Beautiful poem ~ you capture the essence of the season so well..I can feel its heat wash over me..

    ReplyDelete
  11. Nice writing. I found you at Brian's. Glad to be here. Northern Calif? Me too. How far north?

    ReplyDelete
  12. BKM~
    Altering traditional sentence sequence is a device that serves you well here. Gives the piece and other-worldly feeling. And then the images of you moving... hair lifting, falling ... add to that ephemeral feel.

    http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2011/06/28/the-g-spot

    ReplyDelete
  13. There's a sweetly tortured sensuality to this weather, hot and humid, languid and loose as it flutters from room to room of the poem. This is florid and floating in the way the mind opens wider, redolent with mown grass and sweaty perfume. - Brendan

    ReplyDelete
  14. I love the combining of a somewhat antique tone of voice with the surreal imagery. A stately, beautiful poem.

    ReplyDelete
  15. August in heat--and the smell of new-mown hay. Ha! I STILL love summer time!

    A well-thought, read-easy piece, Barbara.
    Thanks!
    PEACE!

    ReplyDelete
  16. This is a beautiful and passionate poem. I could feel the heat. All of it.

    ReplyDelete
  17. I could smell the mowed clover - so sensitive and sensual. Hot, hot, and always hot. I think I'll read it in February. Beautiful, really.

    ReplyDelete
  18. So intimate, every word sings to the reader so well, capturing him, taking him to his private beautiful moments, somewhere :) Lovely.
    Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  19. blurring the edges between the August heat and sexual heat ~ beautifully written! love it!

    ReplyDelete
  20. An Exquisite poem, Barbara.

    I held my breath while reading, it carried me through and is haunting, haunting.

    The heat of August, now here in Atlanta, is the heat of June.....but your poem is fertile with the beauty of imagination, birthed in the soil of these fields.

    Marvelous poem, Barbara. The combination of sensories....nature and human sexual. What better combination, more real, fundamental?

    Beautiful poem, Barbara.

    Lady Nyo

    ReplyDelete
  21. hmmm - could feel the heat in this...and not only the august heat...loved the buttercream clouds and raspberry sky...they insert taste into your poem..beautiful

    ReplyDelete
  22. "but it is a sighing,
    mine
    that stirs the memory
    of your smile "
    lovely lovely
    impressive poem.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Romancing the heat - beautiful!

    ReplyDelete
  24. Oh, 'the felling of clover' — a cool end of a sensual poem, perfectly round and soft, pulling me into the wood, the settling, the coolness behind closed shutters. Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Lovely piece, the felling clover coming back in refrain at the end was a perfectly delicate way to end. Great write ~ Rose

    ReplyDelete
  26. Makes me want to sit on the porch with a sweating glass of iced tea and soak up the sun.

    ReplyDelete
  27. I liked your use of sickled then sigh at the begining of the next stanza.

    ReplyDelete