"Sometimes..."

Morning.

“Sometimes…”

 

Sometimes there are no words -

just perceptions as you watch the sunrise.

There ARE birds - must be birds

you hear them.

And your head turns -

As you taste of the clouds

but they STILL scud by.

The gestalt holds me…

tight, yet with care.

 

My coffee cup sits

…empty… now…

but for the hint

of the dregs

- I don’t remember drinking,

nor the coffee either - truth-be-told.

 

A motorcycle peals by,

Cars whisper, trucks thrum.

…unseen as well… but here… here

Off-to-the-left-right

Distant yet …close… yet… yet…

Trees, shrubs shimmy-shake -

petals, leaves move as ghosts -

their movement comes as hints

as if echoes of another time - caught

within the mind’s wanders.

Dew?  Glistens… the grass preens,

brown, shriveled leaves dance and scrape the

rampway as rainbows form and fracture

And fall aside

as the air draws shivers from your skin.

…the rustling music of almost-Fall.

 

I’m thinking of words,

With words

And their echoes …sound inside

While outside - here on the porch,

my arms folded across the rail,

I BREATHE quietly so as to not disturb

- where I’ve been, with the where and when I’m at.

 

Awake and dreaming…

Sun’s rise.

 

 

Chris

 

Author's Note

Feel free

Reviews

[MorganPark]

Curious…is there significance in the empty coffee cup?

[Chris]

It takes a while for a person to slowly sip a mug of coffee to it's bottom.

[Jon Mahaffie]

"I BREATHE quietly so as to not disturb
- where I’ve been, with the where and when I’m at."

Beautiful couplet near the end there, very striking. The first stanza about the birds reminds me, in tone, of 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, by Wallace Stevens. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45236/thirteen-ways-of-looking-at-a-blackbird

I also love the line about the leaves movements being like hints about something, somewhere out in the world that happened at some time, the ending effects of which are only visible through the movement of these leaves, now like ghosts.

[Becky R]

I rather liked this one … “thinking of words with words”..it’s moody!

[Chris]

And it's real as well... Hi Becky

[Becky R]

Even better , I like the real stuff !

[jacob erin-cilberto]

are we living life or just dreaming it? writing poetry or just imagining it?
If this life is just imagined...then I too will breathe quietly so as not to disturb it...
Maybe that IS art.
j.

[Chris]

Valid questions. Are we but the perceptions of a hopefully living mind? Hi Jacob.

[emmajoygreen]

'Dew? Glistens… the grass preens,
brown, shriveled leaves dance and scrape the
rampway as rainbows form and fracture
And fall aside
as the air draws shivers from your skin.
…the rustling music of almost-Fall.'

Your words offer a mystic cover to what we can see from window or within sight, Chris. How beautiful your mind's world is and how glorious is your kindness in sharing what you see, what you feel, dear sir.

[Kelly Scheppers]

I love the brisk of early morning. The quiet of it, as I sit alone drinking my coffee, watching the parade of elementary kids going off to school, school buses driving by, and people walking their dogs. I enjoy being the voyeur, unnoticed through horizontal window blinds, that is until the sun decides to intercept my early musings. You brought attention to the ambiance that is afforded us every day. Now that we're into October, it reminds me of a quote that well compliments your poem. "...that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature."

The rustling music of almost fall awaits us. Thank you for the dance!

[Chris]

Good Morning Kell... nice seeing and hearing you.

Chris

[Einstein Noodle]

a beautiful moment you have shared, Chris ... just like artists and photographers attempt to capture things .. even the best fall far short .. as poets with words .. we hear the movement of trees and taste the grass that preens ... the wondrous thing is that we try to do it .. hoping to share something special .. something human .. wrapped in the created world around us .. such a peaceful space your poem lends me .. peace brother
E.

[Chris]

"And... Peace to you my friend."

Chris