This Breeze


this breeze that speaks such lies,
wet with your fingerprints,
the taste of your lips on its breast,
here, then gone, past the riven mountains,
following the hollows of your feet.

everything is silent except the evergreens,
now bent into questions, refusing to rise.


but then, the past
is just curated images,
stuck on the evening breeze,
swaying softly,
a little blurry,
a little out of reach.

I grabbed a fistful this evening,
it had the sound of your laughter
and those long dried tears
in my eyes.

Two quadrilles (44 word poems) for Dverse Poets containing the prompt word “breeze”

41 thoughts on “This Breeze

  1. Interesting seductive notes to the first stanza introduces the curated images of the second. Is that what happens when we are alone, at one, with the moods and emotions of the breeze when we venture out into nature? Is that a good thing? Granted, forming plans might be best left to the business world and office in the centre of civilisation, above a tube stop among the crushing fast-paced speed of society in the big city.

    I am intrigued, yet again, by the role you give your reader. Of course upon second reading, one surmises you are not addressing the reader directly in the first stanza, but at first reading one could inagine you are. To me this is very innovative, almost disarming, and a new experience as the reader, yet to pull something off like that, there needs to be a certain standard, a certain quality in the words. There is. No matter that upon reflection, one realises the poet is probably talking about a ‘someone’ who is not currently reading the piece: ~ the reader remains disarmed, and thus primed to the catalyst of the curated images.
    But I am left troubled… among the breezes and whims if weather in nature, I don’t want to be the centre of attention when among trees or in the desert sand, so I take a strong message from your words, to merely be, enjoy, and not fall inro te sugar coated trap of replaying the past as I enjoy the grass sway under the shelter of trees.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s a great observation Hamish…thank you for that. When I write in the first person, I think I imagine a conversation or situation between two people. So yes, they are addressing each other I suppose in a way. The reader is the observer who interprets the story or hopefully uncovers the layers. Maybe it makes everything dreadfully complex that way!!! As for replaying the past, alas, there is no better way to understand the present!!! Appreciate your feedback very much.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Two intriguing responses and this part grabs me:

    everything is silent except the evergreens,
    now bent into questions, refusing to rise.

    and the imagery of past stuck on the evening breeze ~

    Very poignant writing with the emotional undertones stroking the words ~


  3. “the past is just curated images” – so interesting that we only hang on to snippets of the past…who know why we choose to remember just the good of some people, and only the bad of others.


  4. I honestly missed them as two separate responses(oops) and they did connect in my mind…”here, then gone”….and “long dried tears”. Both had a sentimental vibe. I especially love the idea of grabbing a fistful of memories stuck on the breeze…wow.


  5. everything is silent except the evergreens,
    now bent into questions, refusing to rise

    The evergreens stand tall in the forest of life
    and often leave us with more questions than answers.


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