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Southern Knights

October 20, 2012

On this dusty southern hillside,
fresh boar droppings
and lavender.

Templar stories crumble
from Chateau d’Allegre,
hushed between keystones
and the noon rasp
of cicadas –

their troubadour chorale
grating curls of baked air
and scoring our climb
with a skirling hum.

We loiter in the shade
reluctant to descend

hearing the clash of helms,
the grunt of boars trampling
sunflowers, crushing lavender-

stitched linen souvenirs,
palatable, portable
intimations of Provence

fragrant, unbloodied

pieces of the sun.


Fab to be linking to the Tuesday night round the world poetry read that is Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub


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  1. you brought this scene alive…i can still taste it

  2. sunflowers, boars, lavender, knights and an old chateau in the heart of france…that makes me sigh becky…

  3. I’ve spent some youth in France and seen this site. You capture it well. I found a strength in the ruins and I read, and I felt I read that contrast in your words, pieces of the sun, fragments; drawing from the strength that once was. Imaging it whole in its time. Could have been the wine, but it moved me. I enjoyed this.

    • Interesting to hear your associations with the place Henry… was a very quiet spot, but its history clamoured.

  4. this poem moves so well, love the flow in here and so many really good choices for image, great imagery presented here. Excellent piece. Thanks

  5. ah this is beautiful…first a hike…and to ruins…that is right up my alley…places like that fire my imagination as well so i was hearing them, you even touched all the senses….sounds like a wonderful time to me…

  6. Ah, you took me to the climb with fragrances and sounds. I use to live in areas with wild bores — fun memories

  7. A super pretty poem. Thanks much. k.

  8. There truly is something magical about being in the presence of old ruins, imagining the history that took place in the spot you are standing. Lovely capture, Becky!

  9. It’s so good to have the opportunity to revisit your work…proof that a second (or more) read gives even more meaning and depth. Sometimes I dream in French (when I’m especially stressed) and wish I could go back. But we can’t really, can we?

  10. Fantastic constrasts through time, world view, and senses. As ever your word choices are pitch perfect. It’s always a joy to discover the world through your poetry.

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