Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Tucson Brush Strokes
By Don Iannone

Nothing hides the searing hot sun
at noon in June in Tucson,
where the maize-colored desert sand
befriends the olive-green sagebrush,
and the gangly octopus-armed saguaro
stretch lazily in powder blue sky,
and where ragged dull gray-green mountains
cradle you in their powerful arms,
while the old pueblo sleeping inside you
slowly melts back into its original abode.

8 comments:

Dan said...

Beautiful!

Pat Paulk said...

Don this a fantastic poem!! Beautifully worded with a kicked back attitude!!

Don Iannone said...

Thanks Dan and Pat. It's good to have your company at CL.

Mike said...

I like your descriptive use of color in this poem. Their frequency gives them a "flashing" feeling... like on my "mental screen" I could see these colors flashing by as you kept mentioning new ones on line after line.

Darius said...

This may be my "personal favorite" so far. A stark form of beauty really comes across.

jim said...

I can already sense the style of paintings you are going to do, if you weren't so far away, I would offer you classes. Have no fear, if you choose to take it up, you will master it in no time, learn on the job. Great painting/poem. I'm envious.

Don Iannone said...

Jim...Painting, eh? A Grandpa Moses? LOL. Maybe. I write poetry and did some drawing along the line. Who knows. Thanks for the offer. Do you paint?

Don Iannone said...

Darius,

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

How are you?

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