The Escape of SongA Poem by Phibby Venable
The Escape of Song
Just when I thought I was singing, a string of falling stars, crashed, in the background of my gravity. They lit the small creek, where I sat, like a memory, softly fazed out by time. Just when I thought I was singing, the song heard the stars, and alerted the moon, and I was left sitting quietly in the bushes, and the song sought, the recital of the night wind. I could have captured the song easily and brought it home. I could have fettered it to my kite tail, so that it sang along with me, unmodulated syllables, of where it really wished to be. But I was distracted by the moon. I was diverted by the joy of yellow and gold, and the silver of the stars, the way they sang ranges and sweet refrains, that began to mean more to me, than a song of my own. A song of my own that clicked its semantics in a variation that never varied. A song written by heart with good intentions, that would not be free, not for itself, not even for me, and yes, it was mine, but it never had the beat, never held the time of a pure sanctuary of inner inventions. Sometimes here at night, I hear the freed song singing. It is in the harmony of the universe. It is in the coherence of the night wind. It is safe from the square frame, delivered slyly by man. © 2010 Phibby VenableReviews
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StatsAuthorPhibby Venableabingdon, VAAbouthttp://youtu.be/25XE-BHGvWI http://youtu.be/B2klgDKMUq0 I live in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. Although my passion is poetry, I recently published a novel called, Women of the Round Tabl.. more..Writing
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