Poems by Lily Swarn

Poems by Lily Swarn
The village washer woman
Yearnings blowing up in spirals
Pitch black billowing clouds
of my mutilated insides
burning up , like dense black smoke
Huffing and puffing up from
the drenched embers of the log fire .
Looking goggle eyed at the
tightly knotted cloth bundle of my
whole life
like the one , that the village
washer woman , carries precariously
on her head , on her way to the
muddy , mosquito infested pond
The sun opens a window
to let down a staircase
from its blindening dazzle
A benidiction of divinity
all wrapped in gossammer
wrappings of whispers
(the village washer woman )
Cloying cinnamony carressing scent of sweet -peas
Wafting across the moss green expanse of gamboling meadows
Bamboo grasses reaching for the moon on wings of siver
Four leafed clover sinking furtively into the purple heather
Sweet peas clutching and clinging
like jealous wives to the pretty picket fence
Their tender prebubescent langorous tendrils
embracing possessively
Enticing and luring with the perfumed ‘kasturi’
from within their rapturous hearts
Sounds of ‘paloma blanca’ mingling with
the strains of Jim Reeves, thanking the lord
for a newborn day and new mown hay
Ecstatic euphoric sweet peas nodding their
beatific heads to the divine music of the winter breeze
I miss my gardens of yore and you my sweet peas !
copyright lily swarn
Lily Swarn

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