a Georgia summer

05/2012

Tripping over rows in the cotton fields, 

we ran from what everyone thought.

Our sweet teas splashing out with 

every step until we reached the huge

live oak that grew its branches out

like a green web, hiding us from the 

workers and the passersby.

The heat did nothing to subdue our

passion as we clung to each other

like it was the last time.

Maybe if we would have known that

it was the last time we would have

stayed beneath that old tree. We

probably wouldn't have ran away

from the Georgia summer rain.

Perhaps we would have embraced 

it and I could have remained in the

solace of your arms a little longer.

Reviews

[Jazique]

Started out so lovely then got so sad but, thats the case for some love. You begin to let something beautiful grow against the odds and before you know it the odds catch up to you . Making you think you should have held on a little tighter. Anyways well done, the words just seem to flow as you expressed the moment through description but, never directly saying what i was.

[Margarette]

Ah, what longingness of that I moment I sensed in your poem! You have displayed what has been missing when I write in my poems. This talked of a very lovely event that once was perfect. Great job!

[MusicLover]

I LOVE IT AND THE PIC TO

[CourtneyShay]

i love it

[MOON]

Lovely write, yes if we only knew took the time . If we could visit the past and undo.

[Kaylor Mason]

The county I live in is the 2nd largest producer of cotton in the state of TN. I love this poem--it reminds me of "Fields Of Gold" by Sting--but, to be truthful, I absolutely HATE the cotton fields. Cotton is one nasty, ratty little weed, never rising more than a foot off the ground, so if you have to pick cotton you're guaranteed to break your back by sundown from being hunched over. And the fields here are the homes of enough venomous snkaes to fill the fantasies of any biologist--copperheads, moccaissins, and all others. Every bug in this area is as big as a jack rabbit, and they're poisonous too! To say nothing of brown recluse spiders . . . its bad luck to talk about them, though.
The snake nests here are so thick you can't walk on the ground without stepping on one; most snake holes are bigger than a man's fist, too.
There ain't no such thing as a "small snake" in the south, and there ain't no "beautiful" cotton fields. Sure, they look great from the air and on a postcard--try walking in one. If you can walk in a cotton field without thick boots and a 12 guage, you're a braver man than I am.
My point is true Southern Lovers never, ever hide in a cotton field; sometimes they come out mortally wounded by Southern Wildlife. Those are the reasons shotguns are so plentiful here. (Well, those and marital infidelity).
I really do apologize for this review . . . I know I rained on your parade, and I didn't want to, but the words just came out.
[Sorry]
This poem is wonderful, though, I have to admit. A southern rainfall truly is an exquisite treat; it cools off the land. Whenever a gentle rain comes here, we all stop and enjoy it--a blessed reprieve from the merciless sun. The south definitely needs a break. After all, they lost the War Between The States--and it's still going on every day in their hearts . . . I'm not sure if being a "Filthy Damn Yankee B*****d" is a good thing or not--but it's still what I'm called from time to time. :)

[Hayley]

And yet again you bring something new to the table, of course you do. Your talent speaks for itself- I love the dismissive and pondering tone of this piece, contemplating the past and possibility, love and life.

[TaylorH'sPoems]

wonderful write. You are very talented

[Rene Velez]

you have a heart Joshua and it beats loud, I like this side of you, I see the light in you and it is bright.

[Call_Me_Miss_Imperfect]

This is really great :)
So amazing indeed!

Ashley Rivers--Dream BIG and you'll win BIG:)

[Shep]

Before I speak of true grace you first captured my heart. Nicely done.