Thursday, July 28, 2011

blade of grass

Tickling toes-
there was something about
that barefooted madness
something about that wistful
waist-high wishing and wooshing
in the woods,

Running to the water,
Running from the sand.

One always dreams of brighter skies
when toes are tickled-
but when hitting the water-
one always feels they
are just a blade of grass.
Posted by at
Labels: ,

16 comments:

  1. madhumakhiJuly 28, 2011 at 9:41 AM

    Even i like my toes being tickled by grass. It's a pleasurable sensation. Well written.

    ReplyDelete
  2. tpeasandquesJuly 28, 2011 at 9:56 AM

    Always pleased to read your work, always much more than "just" a blade of grass. Nicely written indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  3. DaydreamerJuly 28, 2011 at 9:59 AM

    When you truly do feel nature, you realise just what a marvel it all really is.
    Lovely!

    ReplyDelete
  4. kaykualaJuly 28, 2011 at 10:34 AM

    The feel of the grass on bare feet seemingly ticklish tells me of the reality of life. It touches on and signals 'feel' directly to the person. Great!

    ReplyDelete
  5. BubbaJuly 28, 2011 at 10:43 AM

    Wouldn't the world be wonderful if we could go about barefoot everywhere within it? Nice one!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Laurie KolpJuly 28, 2011 at 10:56 AM

    Beautiful metaphor!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Brother OllieJuly 28, 2011 at 11:53 AM

    Perfect tone...fun, and sweet.

    ReplyDelete
  8. SusannahJuly 28, 2011 at 1:27 PM

    Nicely done, I love the 'barefooted madness'. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  9. AnonymousJuly 28, 2011 at 2:13 PM

    Amy, loved your barefooted feel of the entire poem, the abandon with which you wrote. Sand, grass, ground... hell, even gravel I do barefoot! But nature is the best place to hang one's tootsies. Here is my Grass poem:
    http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/07/28/grass/
    Peace and a run through the blades, Amy

    ReplyDelete
  10. wytchcroftJuly 28, 2011 at 2:59 PM

    aw crap - that means i left my comment on the wrong entry before! anyway, this is a very relaxing piece, neatly put together as always.

    now, where was i - oh yeah, cards? cluedo? coffee?

    *hands them around and glances over at the distant gates of lj*

    looks like rain i see...

    ReplyDelete
  11. signed...bkmJuly 28, 2011 at 5:52 PM

    This is quite lovely - with a feeling wistful joy...bkm

    ReplyDelete
  12. bttrflyscarJuly 29, 2011 at 7:33 AM

    wow, thanks to all my friends who posted!! you are all lovely people.

    ReplyDelete
  13. EllaJuly 29, 2011 at 11:17 AM

    I kind of went that carefree way! I loved you added the tall grass and grit!

    ReplyDelete
  14. AnonymousJuly 29, 2011 at 1:58 PM

    Written with a light and airy grace worthy of a subject dependant on light and air.

    ReplyDelete
  15. UnknownJuly 30, 2011 at 2:52 PM

    alliteration!! :) x

    ReplyDelete
  16. bttrflyscarAugust 1, 2011 at 6:52 AM

    yay! lol

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • storm
    driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
  • self
    nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
  • interview
    Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
  • Day 2
    Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
  • Day 28
    in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
  • last waking hours
    A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
  • Day 15
    At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
  • where I went
    and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
  • small stones
    July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
  • wh(y)?
    like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...

Poets United Contributor