Ode to a Ginger
ODE TO A GINGER
It was the eyes that got me, those eyes,
undecided between green or brown,
the transition betwixt and between
a cosmic riot -
galactic nebulae swirls
like pictures from Hubble,
iridescence that caught the light,
played with it like a lazy cat
then loosed upon you,
drowning you in complex beauty.
The hair was the primary lure, sure,
New England Forest red -
a shade that demanded attention,
drawing the eye
away from drab gray reality.
Freckles pulled you closer -
like a pointillist painting
their overall shade
scintillated into individuated dots,
skin refusing to brown in sunlight
converted tan to a binary score,
compelling my vision to wander,
a glance extending to a visual caress.
And where her skin was unkissed by sun;
pale as moon-milk,
porcelain frail -
a kiss would find shivering life
quickened into heat.
But it was those eyes;
those piercing portals to goddess
born to a race called unlucky,
those eyes spun me around
from the inside, reversed my polarity
and taught my heart the cruelest trick -
the creation of a hole
where only she could reside.
And when we parted,
said farewells with forever in their echo,
she carried a small piece of me away with her
and it is out there still.
©2015 Christopher Reilley
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My goodness this is good! The poem in its entirety is so very passionate 💝 especially love; "And where her skin was unkissed by sun; pale as moon-milk, porcelain frail -a kiss would find shivering life quickened into heat." Thank you so much for writing to the prompt.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your kind words
DeleteWell done!
ReplyDeleteI love how you painted her face specially her eyes with great details. The emotional tug came at the end and made me, the reader , realize she made a lasting impact to you. A gem to read tonight. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThis was somewhere far beyond lovely, Chris.
ReplyDeleteFarther than my words can describe.
-David [ben Alexander]
Well Chris, while reading your poem, I think I fell for her too.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a beautiful poem ... my granddaughter is a ginger, I sent your poem to her. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteChris,
ReplyDeleteSo enchanting in word/vision as we examine with you her beauty, freckles that "converted tan to a binary score" (brilliant!) and the paradox in "pale as moon-milk,
porcelain frail -/a kiss would find shivering life/quickened into heat" Pure poetry.
pax,
dora
What a glorious ginger beauty you portray for us. Your description of the eyes is a masterpiece! Beautiful work. (Defrayed a bit when I scrolled down a bit too far into dog butt sniffing!! lol)
ReplyDeleteLOL, that poem is currently my most read poem, so it gets top billing on the list. It's from an old story my grandfather told me.
DeleteThis
ReplyDeletethe creation of a hole
where only she could reside.
So sad when it could not be filled.