I think of the cold,
embalming these days I have read,
this place of prayer's presence,
expressing in desert, my measure of grace,
much more than idea might feather in form,
by painting the earth in a delicate web
of ancient progression.
Dry tide strides dust in wind's wild ebb,
blasting skin's spherical sandstone to fiery storm,
carving rest within my inner canyons
that speak to the helpless,
hoping, as humble might wait
for the day of the weak.
It is frail, as tail,
kite withered in gale,
when season spends its last day to deeper-soul river,
quivering way through rock left undaunted,
nothing to say;
taunting array, between haunting display where shadow might creak,
and raven cries speak
fraying my nerve in line's fragile ending, implying regret,
list more sacred than fermented sunshine,
to tether, and twine, what spine should not catch
in love's lost, satin shine.
I have written my smile,
to linger awhile in the style of a master,
casting his secret;
hips swaying proportion
through verse that is sipped
from his glass spun at random.
Bare the brunt of incandescent breeze,
hoping in tandem for echoing eyes, tasting sight,
orange to dwindle, when first star grows to blow, as bright.
There are many
to call in this legend of fall,
cleaving clot's clinging leaves, scattered,
and wide throughout my coyote wall to printed prairie;
deciding,
scarier demons
that tease to poison
in the slow of the winter,
dormant horizon, still wandering why,
through sweet, solstice skies,
your voice, as fragrant choice, once expelled,
blooming in laughter,
breath, my obsolescent ever-after,
living life in slow, shaking sigh,
while fearing death.
Author notes
Desert Places
by: Robert Frost
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
The woods around it have it--it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.
And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.
In a list
A contest entry
- My 350th contest Invite Only ...Group One by poet2angels.
800 points, ended August 16, 2008, 14 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Wonderful wonderful work congratulations to you
This was such a wonderful contest filled with some fantastic writers. bravo bravo.
Warm thoughts.
Frozentearz
-
Another stunning piece of poetry from your gifted pen Rich! This is simply beautiful in imagery and emotion It is always such a great pleasure to read your poetry!
My best to you in the contest
Jazzy
-
OOh my this was deep and wonderful your creative ways
has brought Robert Frost alive.
well done and best of luck to you in this contest what a wonderful list of poets she has woven..
Blessings.
Frozentearz -
Oh, you .....
" have written my smile,
to linger awhile in the style of a master,
casting his secret;"
And, so, upon your poetic musings, I muse over the ruse of life's deserts and wonder of ever-afters where one might come to know another whose thought stirred beauty and breath within my desert places..."hoping in tandem for echoing eyes, tasting sight," and the smile of one I've come to feel in "verse that is sipped
from his glass spun at random" 
~K
-
WOW!!! Am I ever glad I am not in this group
This is amazing!! What a wonderful write this one is! I did one -To An Ancient- It is just the name, but for the Lionslove Lair Challenge, and the new book I am working on, The Journal Under The Old Oak.
This is fantastic! What a great job you did on this one!!
Best of luck in this contest! Though I don't think you will need luck with a writing like this
and love my friend
Nyetta
-
SIgh~
I know how you love Frost, my friend...and that passion shows in thi spiece written so beautifully leaving feather to grace the fingers finding it floating...
"taunting array, between haunting display where shadow might creak,
and raven cries speak
fraying my nerve in line, fragile ending, implying regret,
list more sacred than fermented sunshine,
to tether, and twine, what spine should not catch
in lost love's satin line."
Gorgeous....
I want to take this time to say thank you for being one of my favorites , and a friend who inspires me everyday in poetry and life...
From the first time I read your poetry and left roses to show my appreciation, I was in awe of the love of life and nature I saw flowing from your words. I have learned so much from you about poetry, friendship, nature, and while before I felt acqward for being very sensitive and soft hearted, knowing you, I now see it is alright...
a friend always in my heart
Lynda
-
"I think of the cold,
embalming these days I have read"
Exquisite, dear Scribe.
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