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
away
he started
his deep breathing

~

ballooning
at a personal level
is not always
the most comfortable

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

well …

but
that
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
now
barely holding
to the ground

so

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
too

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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