Thank you Chris,
in the meantime I had a long trip to my elderly parents and in this lapse of
time my whole/only eternity flew through when facing the strength of these
engulfing feelings, distancing me miles away from Apples. But yes, I
actually _saw_ it when I wrote it.
And about the _drill_ there is a strange connection there. Every night when
I finally get to sleep there is this distant humming, which could be
anything, the central heating system, ...
but I have the idea they are drilling the mountain, maybe for a new tunnel,
so in the last days I have fallen asleep thinking about this drilling.
Take care and thank you again,
Anny
From: "Chris Mansell" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Dear Anny
> I liked this. I can see this, though at first because it was preceded by
> 'electric' I read 'drill' rather than 'thrill'... which made it an
> unusual poem there for a while.
> c
>
> Anny Ballardini wrote:
>
> >I remember it was Xmas
> >
> > when you arrived
> > arms full with
> > a round wicker basket
> > mistletoe on the threshold
> > your hair white with snow
> > an electric thrill in the air
> >"This is for you, you said,
> > a broad smile on your face
> >
> >as happy as a child I looked in & there were
> > some little red and white
> >apples on the bottom
> > covered by short moving
gray
> >and black vipers,
> >
> >"Be careful, you said, don't touch them -
> >at my awe you added,
> >- the apples might be poisoned".
> >
> >Anny Ballardini
> >
> >http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=poetshome
> >
> >If you go with rivers, not roads, the trip
> >takes longer and you weave and see a lot more.
> >(from Houses)
> >Richard Hugo
> >
> >
> >
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