Bubble breathes brine
in popping truth,
these feathered swells
of swirling inspiration,
teasing tide
to ride in wave
from veins of river
sipping ocean.
I am sand in words of many,
gathered sound
in glass to turn, as falling grace,
a new sensation,
until my line does dance in accent.
Voice is older time
in newer mouth
to crave tradition
with immigrating imagination,
pointing north
in little bits of gathered mountain,
throwing pebble,
splashing ripple.
I spill in sands, my saturating soul,
running light in images of wet,
staining collective conscience
with invisible ink
of sage before,
to fevered rust
incarnating magic
hiding in raft of liquid dream.
A contest entry
- Eternal Newness - a quote inspired poetry contest by thelordreigns.
450 points, ended July 6, 2007, 8 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Many congrats on the bronze ...
-
Gorgeous
This is a true work of art. Each image is perfect - combining the natural with the intangible - "feathered swell of swirling inspiration" - "I am sand in words of many" - "little bits of gathered mountain."
You have combined timelessness with the fragility of mortality with extreme skill.
This is wonderful and I am honored that you wrote this for my contest.
Love and hugs
- joanne
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"I spill in sands, my saturating soul,
running light in images of wet,
staining collective conscience
with invisible ink
of sage before"
Your words provoke a kaleidoscope of images, freefalling from the sky with such pleasure...Beautifully done, my Friend...Good luck in the contest, Sweetie... Wanda
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