‘Mesa Verde Love’ – An Image-Inspired Thought

Mesa Verde

Photo-credits: Christopher Axe

Hey, do you hear me?

I hope you’re there, carefully listen,

Look at those royal remains,

Dry arches, baked rooms,

Parched stairs, fossil drains,

The human odor free flows,

Soaked is the air with the civilization smell,

Imagine lightening, thunder rolls,

Strikes gleams on those skeleton towers,

Teasing me, you run in and out of those narrow lanes,

Those boorish curves and bends,

Lifting your white gown above your toe,

You hip, hop, like the grasshopper, skip forward,

Your giggles, your chuckle amplify,

Echoes them around, those barren walls,

History remains witness to my desire,

Bricks smothered in love, vintage,

Experience depths, similar, willingly they testify,

Sans, a single material pleasure,

Just a night, on floors, ancient,

To realize, transient is only time,

Love rides from one being to another,

Trickles down generations, survives sublime…

Debaroon’2013

(An image-inspired thought, from the very talented photographer Christopher Axes’ photograph, Mesa Verde (http://regenaxe.com/2013/04/14/mesa-verde/) of the Mesa Verde National Park, Montezuma County, Colorado, United States (the snap used above).

Catch up with Christopher’s amazing work, on his blog, RegenAxe,http://regenaxe.com )

 

 

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5 thoughts on “‘Mesa Verde Love’ – An Image-Inspired Thought

  1. I adore this, Deba. I recently read the Helen of Troy saga, and am having trouble moving back into modern day times in my noggin–and this poem captures that yester-life feeling perfectly. I love the girl running through in her white gown–a great action visual. You’ve brought life to that which is long dead…or is it? (lol)

  2. Such places that were so alive once, sometimes I wish I could sit down, and listen to the youth and elders of such places in their time, to hear what they know, and live. Your poem explores it just a little, enough to take one there, to want to find more than a deserted place, but be taken there when it is alive, and thriving. Great writing, Deba!

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