I am often sorry,
like silence
sent in misdirection,
through cloudless skies
of imperfection;
my weather's negligence,
these scattered words,
seeping in soul's slow, sandy mire,
with fire spilling orange confession.
You are truest form of friend,
as in the leaves warm autumn sends
through spirit, breathing high to fever,
sun's yellow spun,
in whispering leisure,
avoiding winter's, mountain seizure.
I am often shy in surrender,
such waves,
next season, sounding hill
through inhibition's sultry frill,
to chill in sealing heart,
cool border,
not to cross without an order;
porter late
to board the train,
and teach soul passenger self-refrain,
restraining speak,
so close for comfort,
when night might listen
for footsteps passing.
Yes, Karen, you move of life, and try it on,
closer, greener hills of poetry,
beyond my clever words in quiet,
as peace of river
spinning summer
slow to rock in recognition,
this song of friendship,
growing close,
until such shadow
is rose in rising.
A contest entry
- Celebrating the klassiest of lassies by tomisb.
2250 points, ended June 25, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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A nice paean to the song of friendship. There is joy in your words that is nice to experience. Thanks for bringing your joy to Karen's heart.
Love, Tom B.
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"You are truest form of friend,
as in the leaves warm autumn sends
through spirit, breathing high to fever,
sun's yellow spun,"
That Karen is, and every beautiful line you've written here and pressed with such gentleness against this page, Rich. Simply beautiful.... I'm so lucky to have you both as friends.
~ Nicolette
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"these scattered words,
seeping in soul's slow, sandy mire,
with fire spilling orange confession.
You are truest form of friend,
as in the leaves warm autumn sends
through spirit, breathing high to fever"
A lovely, insightful tribute to one of the purest souls there are upon this terra firma of ours (only borrowed, of course). I see Karen was thrilled, & rightfully so, my Friend. Having been on the receiving end of your pen, I know the feeling well. You've done justice to the Lady, Gentle Man. Good luck in Tom's contest, Scribe. Wanda
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Ohhh
Cool borders, a garden protected,
warms to joy in words perfected,
Such silences growing, shy to tender,
ripen voice in gift's surrender.
A rose gives rise to Richer shade
its dew-kissed bloom from mountain glade,
stealing breath, my meadow's gain,
a minstrel's verse in sweet refrain.
Near quiet whisper of your wings
my heart, an echo, learns to sing.
~~~~~
Frills to sealing a heart? Thrills to stealing a heart is more like it! Mine seems to be caught in your song of friendship.
~Karen
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Awww poet Karen will adore this from you, it paints such a soft picture of her on peper. She is indeed the klassiest of lassies. Love, C
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