a basket (for his lady)

Poem #83 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

in the early pre-dawn
he attached a cuff
to both his hands
and to his feet

bade her
take her place
inside the basket

and when he was
a small way
he started
his deep breathing


at a personal level
is not always
the most comfortable

the swell
is havoc on clothing
stretched and tightened skin
the contorted head
and gross misshape
of the body

well …

and the endurance
of a slow recovery of his usual form
are a price
he knows he will pay
and willingly
for the chance
to take his lady


another breath

another breath

he is quite suitably inflated
barely holding
to the ground


he stamps a foot
stamps it hard
and pushes
to lift
off the ground
into the gentle breeze

a little higher
and then the basket
with his lady

and away
they sail towards the colours
of the rising sun

© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #84: contemplation in the heart

3 thoughts on “a basket (for his lady)

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