Angel

For a smile that

blazes across the Horizon

stops the Ocean dead

and shames the stars

to silence

what I wouldn't give,

A broken hearted whisper

in the wind

to swim in Universe

deep eyes

drowning, inhaling beauty

exhuming city fog

In savage wild perfume

lost in supple, toned

limbs and hair

what I wouldn't give

for your smile, 

just waiting to be found

                       to someone

                        somewhere

Reviews

[Robert Trakofler]

yum me want that smile too:) if I find it I won't be sending it your way cause i will be hoarding sorry... just sayin but that poem paints a mighty delicious picture good sir! Merry Christmas Mr. Gram:) (my smiles not the sort you were looking for but I send it anyway for lack of a better substitute)

[gram linski]

haha, your smile brought a smile, so thanks for that, Merry Christmas back at ya, Mr Bunny

[R.E. Ray]

Gram, I think I’ve seen such “angels” in California and Florida. But, I couldn’t get close enough to confirm. Seems such women fly higher than my reach— and we’re probably all better for it. Good write!

[gram linski]

lol, the angels down there are all surgically enhanced, it's the ones with the limp that you want to chase,

[Eilis]

The elusive someone, somewhere. You have a lot of romantic reviews on this. I'm sorry I'm coming by to graffiti it with my intellectual yammerings. What else can I do, though. It's just the way it is, haha. Romance being a ghost in my head.

Sometimes, in my poet mind, I feel like I am trying to create the ideal everything. Maybe even the ideal sorrow or cage or whatever. Whatever my mind needs at the time. When I think about the poet mind in general, I think there is something of the internal optimist lurking within. Or perhaps, something like the doctor building a monster in his laboratory. Piecing it all together to make whole. Feeling sure that the creation itself will measure the bounds of perfection. Only, as poets, I think we embrace our creations rather than shun them as the mad doctor.

This poem makes me think of purity of feeling, and how things don't need to be expressed in a complex way in order to evoke a sense of depth. You offer something here that has the feel of the entire universe encompassed in the bounds of the poem. The space that spreads over the waters and seems endless but really isn't because everything has an eventual end. The place where the ideal and the real meet and the city fog is exhumed. I loved that idea in this. The grit still there even in the midst of the more tender sentiment.

Neither of us write much of this kind of poetry, so I am pleased to see this softer side from you, Gram. And learn a little from it. It's a lovely poem. Here's to hoping the angel at last arrives.

[gram linski]

thanks, Eilis, don't mind a bit of intellectual yammering, really liked your idea about the Franken poem monster, might have some fun with that later, lol, fairly sure I've done some tender sentimental s**t before but glad you enjoyed, the only Angels that seem to come knocking are of the fallen variety,

[Einstein Noodle]

stunning ... your poetry sets my youngest heart to flight ... oh just for that one smile ... a look my way and a wink or nod ... but mostly that smile ... i'm in love again gram!! thanks :))))))))
E.

[gram linski]

You're welcome, E. just don't tell yer missus, lol,

[Einstein Noodle]

ahahahahaha! :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and i imagine the someone would be the speaker in the poem...
intense imager...especially like the third stanza of this...
j.

[gram linski]

thanks, j. you always seem to be one of the first to read my s**t and I truly appreciate it, even if I don't reciprocate as often as I should, thanks again,