Raspberry Morning

The air hung sultry on the trees 
As a milky haze hugged the shore, 
The smell of salt gently wafted 
Following the seagull orator. 
Alone with the buzzing bees, 
With a small, metal bucket in hand. 
Standing encased in a berry patch 
Just the sky, the water, the land. 
Baked by the big, golden sun 
The fields emit aromas so sweet, 
Each breath lingers heavy with fruit, 
And two out of three picked you eat. 
With nature's great bountiful hand, 
The awaiting fields are adorned 
Against a painted blueberry sky 
And the scent of a raspberry morn.

February, 1998

C. Lawry Brown's Questions:

I am striving for the reader to feel, touch and smell in this poem.
Is it enough or overkill?

The Angry Sea

Salacia, Goddess of timeless seas 
Give suck unto petulant tides, 
As ledges give way to infanticides 
And sirens assault the breeze. 
From deep within Rhea's womb 
They rise with caps of white, 
Neptune's sheep undulating unite 
To seal the naive voyagers doom. 
As the murky blanket enfolds 
Cradles of seaweed embrace harm, 
Swelling a hypnotic charm, 
Disguising a peril yet to behold. 
The marrying of wood and stone. 
The divorcing of flesh and bone.

February, 1998

C. Lawry Brown's Questions:

This one I want to know if it is too powerful.
Is anyone going to know what I am talking about?

Eye To Eye

'Twas spring, 
The night winds softly fly 
As April had an August eye. 
'Twas daybreak 
As the dew did glisten 
The ears of afternoon did listen 
To loons, 
That rode upon the tide 
As each wave ebbed and died. 
As voices 
Spoke of yet the day, 
Of falled leaves and bundled hay, 
'Twas winds 
That whisper on bitter tongue 
Of snow and ice on branches hung, 
'Twas warmth 
That made the snowflakes fly 
As December had an April eye.

February, 1998

C. Lawry Brown's Questions:

This one, is the 'Twas to archaic? It fits so well with the rhythm of the 
piece it was hard to find anything else that worked as well.