Poetry is...the slow susurrus
of experience and past events
filtered through the sluice-gates
of memory and imagination.
It is an echo from the womb;
a dance in four dimensions;
the hot wind from God's breath
and the pulse that tells us
we're alive to the music
of blood, bone, flesh and spirit.
A contest entry
- Open Theme- 500th Contest by CarolDesjarlais.
1200 points, ended April 12, 2008, 14 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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wow Bill...so many deep lines penned here...and one cannot deny the brevity and depth expressed here so wonderfully...never seen the word susurrus used before...bravo to you for this poem is worthy of recognition
Mal
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Weel put together - i thought the first half of the piece was, for me, as the reader, more interesting, the ending seemed almost - hmmm - obvious i guess.
The actual writing of the piece is good - it is a good example of puncuatation to aid the flow, some lines really jumped out at me. Line 5 and the last line in particular are very good.
James
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You got me deep and dear at these lines:
"It is an echo from the womb;
a dance in four dimensions;
the hot wind from God's breath
and the pulse that tells us
we're alive to the music
of blood, bone, flesh and spirit."
Wowsers.... powerful. -
Wonderful write! "filtered through the sluice-gates of memory and imagination" ..great! Good luck in the contest.
-
I jus' got rejuvenated and elated
with this shot in the arm
that I sorely needed...
"It is an echo from the womb;
a dance in four dimensions;"
I Love those lines, Poet!
Thank you for sharing
~ Nicky♥
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Worth three bunnies in anyone's money! GLITC.
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