the visitor

my muse? maybe, or just a passing lark

the visitor

        She doesn’t knock
        just waits until
        I answer.
        Suitcase full of torment 
        broken crown of stars
        tangled in her hair.
        In my silence 
        she flows like wine
        When I’m cool 
        she flys.

        She lives on grains of sand
         savors time through this
          hourglass mind
         in flesh of shells 
        the milk white bead.  
            her face? 
        mystery,  subtle shape
          new character. 

        A fog desiring order
        she moves inside
        images I define.

        I recall days
        of fire and ice
        before she was born,
        our eyes solving
        an oracle of shadows 
        the promise of untamed dreams
        we share in moonlight.

        She holds the dawn in my eyes,
        whispers sparrow songs.
        She is charmed ignorance;
        I translate her soul.

        pages   flutter   change
        I leave the door open
        so she can fly.

Reviews

[Sel Whiteley]

This was truly sensational, so imagistic and beautiful. I loved all the lones but some especially stood out:

broken crown of stars
tangled in her hair.


She lives on grains of sand
savors time through this
hourglass mind
in flesh of shells
the milk white bead.

and the whole of the fourth and fifth stanzas. You show a true mastery of combining beautiful traditional symbols and rare, exotic images. And the lyricism is all you'd expect of a musician. This was a delight to read.

[Gandré]

Hi Nan, I missed your writing. This was beautiful. I loved the stanza with the sparrow songs. Hope you are find. Write me. love you.

[sea lily]

this is magical :)

[Poeticpiers]

intriguing piece of poetic prose leaving the reader room to decipher it according to their taste.

I opted for hungry bird looking for a hand out