Music Against Stone

Music Against Stone

Tomorrow, the blue of morning,
may be sad with regrets.
That is why today, when the wind
arrives in my hair, I will steal
a cascade of sun strikes
to pat into the crevices of time,
and draw upon my childhood
of mudpies after rain.
A thousand drops fall around me,
but I can only focus
on the ones on my face
I can only focus
on the rounded perfection
in my hands
Eventually, I may be half crazed
in the long ribbon of a banner
choosing my celebrations
and the shores of remembrance
like a child, lifting my eyes
to devour the sky
Do you hear my voice?
Not black and beaten.
Not jailed in the syllables
of proper speech.
It is dancy, like the echoes thrown,
against the mountain's stone,
hitting from side to side,
and shouting back.

Reviews

[Olivia Carmine]

This... was... amazing. Just, simply wonderful. It made me feel glad to be alive.

[Ed Hart]

you continue climbing...between you and Mr K, I can always get quality stuff for my poetry fix

[Ken Simm.]

Shouting back at nostalgia. A stunning piece of art Phibby and that's all I can say.

[W.k.kortas]

Just how do you go about a "review" of work like this? It is like trying to review a double rainbow, or the chanting of children as they jump double-dutch. This, like so much of your other work, is life on its literal plane and so many others besides, and trying to quantify or qualify it is silly. Sometimes we just need to sit back and marvel.

[fauxcajun]

Yes indeed, it is dancy, my friend / Your attention to the simplistic nature of things carries this piece of work to astrominical heights, in my opinion / Remembrances / I know some of where you are speaking here . . .