James Mills


A Few Degrees Of Heat - Poem by James Mills

A slope of rising road
gains on the pair of us -
forcing silence.
Dusty birds and drunken bees
seem dazzled and frustrated
in the grating heat.
Wings and feathers
weather the jagged day
in short bursts and slowly.
Our imaginations fail,
again, to summon cool times.

Summer aggravates.
Midges bite and die;
spent on your glistening skin.

Blisters bubble;
subcutaneous lakes of irritation
itching like the scumbled day.


Comments about A Few Degrees Of Heat by James Mills

  • (6/22/2005 5:12:00 PM)

    Very well done, James...but I don't know what scumbled means, either. I'm going straight to me dictionary.

    Raynette
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  • (5/18/2005 6:15:00 AM)

    This is burning, unsettling surrealism...it gets right down into my gut. I don't know meterless free-verse as well as I might, but this really does what a poem should. (Report)Reply

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  • (5/16/2005 10:20:00 AM)

    well, this is quite creative...I like it! (Report)Reply

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  • (5/9/2005 6:36:00 AM)

    ooo i like :) Its defo original (Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: weather, silence, summer, rose



Poem Submitted: Friday, May 6, 2005

Poem Edited: Friday, August 18, 2006


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