The black bamboo fronds reached high and low
Swinging to every blustery blow of the westerly
Up and down, to and fro, left and right
But rising to straighten not staying low for long
...
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Great poem! An easy tenner here. God bless poets, all-MJG. Jostling freely in the wind... Like a kite, precariously. Riding the winds tide us up and down.... Closer, closest to the ground. Rippling breezes eases us not... Not let loosened, easily a-knot. We are tied and weathered loosely taught... Trapped between trade winds, and unloosely naught.
I m agree wit lesilie u describes so simple bamboo in detail any wayz nicely write sir...
Eddie, This is poetic writing at its best. Excellent write.10 here. Jim
very calm and lulling...interesting description of something so simple but explained in such detail... Leslie
It is nice of you to capture this play between the wind and the bamboo. The wind can be very interesting when involving such ordinary things. I find your ending amusing.