Sunday, December 9, 2012
On Writing
The rarest thoughts
have wings of tissue that
once torn, remain
forever grounded...
Inspiration of the kind
worth sharing
rarely can
take flight;
through you always
remember how it feels
the lift, the thrust,
and now aloft...
Sweet savagery of wind,
bare, craggy heights,
nearness of dimpled cloud
and shock of sunlight...
Green sea beneath
all gold-chipped
tumble of waves and sweep of froth
that cannot stop
that cannot stop,
that, surely,
cannot stop,
And yet
inevitably does.
World without end
but ending
nonetheless.
Wings ripped to shreds,
all broken now,
nerve endings
shrieking pain,
and all that remains:
faint shadow of wings,
the leap
and the ache of the love of it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love the imagery you used! Lovely piece!
ReplyDeleteKathy
http://gigglingtruckerswife.blogspot.com
Thanks, Kathy.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poetry. Good job!
ReplyDeletehttp://joycelansky.blogspot.com
Thank you!
DeleteThanks, Joyce.
ReplyDelete"Green sea beneath
ReplyDeleteall gold-chipped
tumble of waves and sweep of froth
that cannot stop
that cannot stop,
that, surely,
cannot stop"
LOVE this! It gives the feel of reading poetry at the beach with the waves and wind providing the soundtrack.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Delete