Longing for wisdom, for a more enlightened world, to feel the connectedness of all things. Time is a string folding in and around itself.
Somewhere
in the mist of this night must lie a memory, a breath I took while
sleeping, that could fill this...void. The green path stretches
far...too far to dream, almost.
Still beyond this fog I see a
hand outstretched- fingertips curled to beckon me onward, lips
pursed to blow me wisps of fairy dust that I might hurl myself at
last upon this shore where wisteria curtains drape, ivy spills
itself over walls of stone and where, beyond the rolling hills, a
canyon lies where no man shouts at the wind to hear his own
voice but feels instead the silent expanse of sky and soul as it
ripples through the parallel layers of time that he has dared
to mount- red, rich clay whose pores hold secrets tight within
their ticking metronome trapping every voice, every trickle all
the flipping fields that have rocked them through midnights of
blue exploding with globes of sparkling ancient eyes that look
back through rivers of time and glitter Morse code down upon
infants with their eyes closed
This is sweet and dreamy. Strong poetry and insights, wonderfully romantic piece. I liked
to hear his own voice, but feels instead the silent expanse of sky and
soul, as it ripples
through the parallel layers of time, that he
has dared to mount-
red, rich clay whose pores hold secrets, --- because sooo airy! Sweet and upon existance.
Whew....this is unbelievable. This is cool and misty, the words rolling in like a fog and so easily off the tongue. Wonderful images and description, captures the feel of an epic with the pointedness of a shorter work. Nice job.
Very Deep, mom. (yes, she's my mom.)
This is my favorite one of your poems. (actually, I didn't really read much of your poems.)
I guess I need a conclusion to this review.
My favorite line is: beyond the rolling hills, a canyon lies
where no man shouts at the wind to hear his own voice
but feels instead the silent expanse of sky and soul as it ripples
through the parallel layers of time
that he has dared to mount-
It's Lovely.. sounds like a dear friend in the past... she gave me this "Untitled Poem" and I think I got to publish it in my profile and writings (watch out for this poem and you'll see what I mean). It deserves to be published.. it was her thought, her being and her soul... a poet inside her.. I just hope somewhere, sometime, somehow... our path will cross again..
Wow this is so mystical and uplifting... the captivating images you produce show the beauty nature possesses proving we need to believe in that we don't see to achieve true faith.
I write. Read me.
We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, la.. more..