California Prodigal

FOR DAVID P—B

The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young
Giant. In the nestle,
Old adobe bricks, washed of
Whiteness, paled to umber,
Await another century.

Star Jasmine and old vines
Lay claim upon the ghosted land,
Then quiet pools whisper
Private childhood secrets.

Flush on inner cottage walls
Antiquitous faces,
Used to the gelid breath
Of old manors, glare disdainfully
Over breached time.

Around and through these
Cold phantasmatalities,
He walks, insisting
To the languid air,
Activity, music,
A generosity of graces.

His lupin fields spurn old
Deceit and agile poppies dance
In golden riot. Each day is
Fulminant, exploding brightly
Under the gaze of his exquisite
Sires, frozen in the famed paint
Of dead masters. Audacious
Sunlight casts defiance
At their feet.

by Maya Angelou

Comments (4)

Roses are red, Violets are blue, I got diamonds, and i killed you.
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The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. - - - The pen in her hand draws true portraits not only of the land, not only of the cities, but of the hearts and souls of man. You find verses like this sparkling everywhere in her poems
Enjoyed this elegant write. Takes me back to days of old. Old landmarks of hills, mountains, valleys, etc. has all of the markings of things past. They can't be erased by the hands of time. An inspiring write.