Touch Of Wind

How the wind and I feel each other

chilly windy

and dry

bone, cold

on a lonely

red-brick stone

bicycle ride home

 

shadows

come long

and leave low

in the lamp light

where I rotate

lungs and breath,

heavy breaths

sunk in

my legs

 

breezes

curious of me

they feel

each space

my skin fills

over me

and touches

brushy like

a lenient painter

strokes his art,

swiftly but intently

gentle

 

a bristle thinly brushes

slightingly sweeps

dusty ethereal

nerve ends

in prison

dead skin cells,

no freedom

or breaks from the sense

of touch

to be any other

kind of sense

than touch.

Author's Note

While riding my bicycle home last night, I thought about the wind.

Reviews

[Jacquelene Vanessa More..]

isn't it crazy sometimes when were struck with instant inspiration. my mind comes alive at nite around i am. i grab hold of my pen and soon it takes ahold of me. this is very vivid, your visual imagery conjures up my senses. your use of diction and format leaves the reader intriguied and guided along for the ride. just like you riding on your bike :)

[James K. Blaylock]

Man, I really dug this piece. And this was truly my favorite stanza...

breezes

curious of me

they feel

each space

my skin fills

over me

and touches

brushy like

a lenient painter

strokes his art,

swiftly but intently

gentle


jkb

[EvesDaughter]

First of all...wow.
The imagery you've
filled this poem with
is fantastic! I can't
critique anything
with your work either:)
It is a pleasure to
read, and that is all
I need.