See the shadow of my soul
there, on your lips my smiling child;
hungers nor wants not,
with worlds on his horizon.
Feel the passing of my love
a wisp upon your cheek;
or in your ear, an echo of wonder;
my hand on your shoulder.
Know the prayers that I have sent
to heavens not certain, faith gave wings;
come in moments of trouble, to soothe you,
fond wishes glow within you.
You do not know me, but I asked in spirit;
touched hands of repentance,
called after Saints and glory, for you;
and I revel in the joy of days.
I came before you and saw your path,
I said goodbye to the ground
leaving the line of your mothers;
nameless, faceless, as the beating of your heart.
The smoke of the fire flies to my eyes
and my love rises;
I am kept for you in mention of the word,
ancestor.
In a list
A contest entry
- overnighter by Cat.
425 points, ended July 17, 2007, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - AP’s Crap Poetry~ For Malabu (Doubled Points) by Malabu.
1400 points, ended October 15, 2007, 35 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Oh. This is a nice little poem that you have penned here. I was thinking about this one and I thought that it was a pretty versitle poem because people could interpert it to mean a lot of different things. Like maybe it could be about a parent that has passed on but still watches over, or maybe about god or maybe even the wind!
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yes i have to agree i love the ending part.. its beautiful.. a wonderful porm. a wonderful thought
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such a lovely poem
I truly love the ending lines but then again...the former lines are just as endearing...wonderful poem
thanks for entering this -
Gorgeous.
Thank you for entering the contest.
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some lovely wording through out...
m -
What can you say great job truely a thought provoking write Thanks
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Very well written -- kept the flow going until the end. Good luck in the contest.
Lady Dragonwyck
. Rewarded 4
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this was good. i liked the way it held me and flowed. thanks for sharing
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just sighing again
Love, C
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"The smoke of the fire flies to my eyes
and my love rises;
I am kept for you in mention of the word,
ancestor."
An intriguing piece, Poet. Indeed, in the smoke that wafts across the landscape of dreams, there are ashes of the past that remain, even now. Good luck in Mary's contest. Wanda
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Awesome write here
As the indians have their smoke others have teachings from their elders and gifts about their homes reminders of one so loved . The smoke in our minds holds the key to the past lives of those who got us where we are today
. Rewarded 4
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Just wonderful. I got the image of wave of heat visibly rising like the phenmomen seen about a campfire, rising off a a person instead.
Wonderful...
As always!
Marianne
. Rewarded 4
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