These hands are shield to sever face
from those who might not care for reason,
when life is sipped
in tongue to split
one as here,
and there the other.
Here, I am
that which you see
of frailer feel to finger line,
in hope of every wish
to feather
wing to know
of Passion's kiss,
where meadow dances grass to glisten,
such wind in silent strands of gladness
gathered first before the frost
to keep in glass, beyond the winter.
And there,
my place of feeling fall,
as skeleton to cling to branch, untended,
when sliver picks in soul surrendered,
and silver shades
metallic meltings
to geld my glitter pouring mold,
so cold might harden heart from morning,
and one more chance to find in sunshine,
a new beginning without season
as failure froth
with Moon's betrayal.
So see me once and find my hands,
as levers made to open,
so I might see in eyes,
my treason,
at wishing time to spare experience,
till I could wait to find my shadow
grow to find the ground
as holy.
A contest entry
- I Can Not Look - closes late this evening by CarolDesjarlais.
600 points, ended May 1, 2007, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
"So see me once and find my hands,
as levers to made to open,
so I might see in eyes,
my treason,
at wishing time to spare experience,
till I could wait to find my shadow
grow to find the ground
as holy."
Sometimes it takes a gentle movement of someone else's hands to help us see....
This is beautiful, pen friend...as always.. -
Amazing as always
Love, C
-
"So see me once and find my hands,
as levers to made to open,
so I might see in eyes,
my treason,
at wishing time to spare experience,
till I could wait to find my shadow
grow to find the ground
as holy."
I agree with Lynda's assessment, my dear Friend...Another magnificent penning, dear Scribe...Your wisdom is profound, as is your compassion & understanding...Good luck in Carol's contest, Sweetie... Wanda
-
wow!
Such a brilliant write this is!
As always, you leave me in awe of your talent...
Lynda;f
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