Karelia (Poetry Monthly)
By Pat G
- 2808 reads
A small beer slouches
near its owner’s hand.
Its fading bubbles
barely bother to rise.
Time lingers in the corners
of such bars, from the White Sea
to the Gulf of Finland. It’s measured
in elbows and dark mouths.
But its home is amongst
the trees, where it
roams from cabin to boathouse.
It creaks old floorboards
sawn slowly
before the Winter War
and in diseased homes
it spreads its fungal spores
and lies in wait
for advancing armies.
++++++++++++++++++++
In the last town
before the crossing point
a shop sign reads
katalo / рыбый дом
Fish are laid out
in the chiller;
whose water passed
through their gaping gills?
Time moves on
across the pulp mill road,
through birches
and blueberries,
past dozing mosquitoes.
It ruffles a lake,
and naked people surface.
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Comments
I'm in love with your poetry.
I'm in love with your poetry. This is gorgeous, the way you manage to hold a moment is skilled, a whole period drawn in choice words.
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Such a beautiful sense of
Such a beautiful sense of time and place. Wonderful writing.
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Full of stunning, standout
Full of stunning, standout lines but by no means just those - a wonderful atmosphere I just can't touch. You move from claustrophobia to expanse in a few short words.
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Truely atmospheric and
Truely atmospheric and soporific. Loved the lazy beer bubbles and dozy mosquitos.
'Time moves on
across the pulp mill road,
through birches
and blueberries,
past dozing mosquitoes.'
Paints a picture of wandering through memories.
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By request, this beautiful
By request, this beautiful poem is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day!
Get a fantastic reading recommendation everyday
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Loved this - especially the
Loved this - especially the last. Beautiful!
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