Ciutadella

[hallaig]

Tuesday Night, Ciutadella


Fronds hang with water like rope.
The raindrops are fat and white as opals:
I see a face in them,
framed by sky the colour of iron
and shredded cloud.

It is good to be off your head
somewhere new, where even the weather
has a different slant, fast and loud
and desperate to get to ground.
No lack of words:

the sea has no end and talks long
into the night like a mother tongue.
I sit and drink and watch the rain
while my girls, happy in any migrating,
sing like birds.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Smacks to me a little of Browning's "God's in His heaven..." An armful of blessedness!

[hillwalker]

I loved this for so many reasons, but the phrase 'off your head' jarred with the pastoral, ambience of the piece. Perhaps a more gentle euphemism in keeping with the setting might work better - but extremely enjoyable all the same.

H

[Jack of Hearts]

And hallaig rides in and saves the day! Good poem! Nice imagery, well done and easy to follow. This reader hopes to see more of you, hall egg.







J

[everyadventure]

Another wonderful poem. But for me, the last two lines didn't seem to fit. This poem seemed to be about enjoying the solitude of the scenery, with no one to talk or listen to but the sea... and then you bring in cheery singing children?

The last lines would work well in another poem, they're good lines... just felt a little disjointed in this one.

[IceM]

I really enjoyed the pastoral qualities of this poem.

I think the introduction of the family, upon re-reading, can be seen in the "mother tongue" line, for now with the father speaking, the mother tongue, and the children, it captures a connection between the family and nature in a cherished moment. Besides that, your descriptions evoke powerful, peaceful images where one can just relax....

If it's raining, and the sky is colored iron, does that mean it's rusting? Terrible joke, I know...

Thank you for sharing.

[Jerrybaldy]

Menorca? I was in Ciutadella a few years ago, wandering around to find a police station to report a lost passport. I feel unusually privilged to picture the place you are writing from or about. It wasn't raining but I never read a better description of the rain in Spain:


somewhere new, where even the weather
has a different slant, fast and loud
and desperate to get to ground..

I agree with Hill about the line of being off your head but most of all I loved your poem