Breathing Poetry: Storm in Africa

Storm in Africa

Written by Pris Campbell
She lives in the Greater West Palm Beach, Florida, USA.
Her website: Poetic Inspirations

Originally published in Walt's Corner
(New York newspaper column by George Wallace).
Inspired by a photo titled: Crash by Elena Retfalvi.

Storm in Africa

You wrote daily
from Africa.

The wind in your words
swept me to spaces
sown by wild orchids,
stalked by lean lions.

But a new love captured,
carried you down
fresh pathways, lay
beside you when wolves
prowled in the night.

Our storm now peaked
and passed, I am a leaf,
tumbling,
with no memory
left of its home.

Posted with consent from the writer.

8 Comments:

Pris said...
February 27, 2009
Thank you for posting my poem. I'm really enjoying your blog and just put a link up to this entry on my own blog.

Every Photo Tells A Story said...
February 27, 2009
It was my pleasure, Pris:)

Gordon Mason said...
February 27, 2009
Interesting take on lost love, from the heat of passion to the autumn shedding of attachment.

RachelW said...
February 28, 2009
Amazing... I felt myself tumbling along with the words. This really touched a nerve in me.

Anonymous said...
March 01, 2009
I agree. Great. Chinkle.

Collin Kelley said...
March 01, 2009
Lovely poem, Pris.

Opaque said...
March 01, 2009
Staggering!!!

Crafty Green Poet said...
March 02, 2009
very vivid,

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And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
for myself a pure part of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

~Pablo Neruda

Breathing Poetry

Storm in Africa

8 Comments:

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