Eye of the Beholder
I open my eyes some days
& the haze concealing
Old Seventy Creek clears,
lifts like fog. Singing, yellow
finch fears not the sound
his voice makes thru the trees.
Minnows go round & around, their
circling quick, silent as pain.
I walk some mornings, rays
of sun chasing night from the clearing,
startle chipmunk or coyote, ears
failing, asleep below
the cliff, curled on the ground,
his bed one of leaves,
his fears of man unfounded where
I am concerned. In the coming rain,
poetry is a possibility.
A contest entry
- of Beauty by cvillelisa.
425 points, ended December 21, 2006, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Water making S sounds
Of course I know who wrote this as well.
Old Seventy Creek is now as similar to me as my Bumps River or Long Beach. And yet it still retains its mystery. And yes, I do believe that Einstein quote about Beauty being in the mystery , as clear as we can use our senses to see these thing that we call beautiful -- Beauty is still somehow beyond them, isn't it?
I'm honored you penned something for my contest. Truly.
In the tiny twitch of a chipmonks ear the vibrations of the universe.
Lisa
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Beautiful write.
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Your words bring the reader to Old Seventy Creek, make it feel like a familiar place, so serene, so beautiful. Always enjoy visiting! Good luck in the contest
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To think that a reader has come to know Old Seventy Creek as a familiar place is great!!!
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Serene
Whenever i read your poems... I always find myself lost somewhere into your words... you write with such beauty and grace... i felt so much in this one..
its always nice reading you dear poet...
your poems are a bliss to the readers..
thanks for sharing
keep writing
-Neha
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Your words make me proud when one should not be such... That you feel when you read is the way each of us should read poetry.
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