There are such things
as consciences, mind universes,
electric half-note dreams, sound waves
and senses of time and space
that float endless sun-spans
above me
in wicker baskets sailing home
and out of my reach.
There are words in the baskets
that say in brand new languages
or unseen colors,
"I dreamed we walked
through Ireland last night and you
kissed me at the crescendo
of some music
too raw and beautiful
for the earth to swallow
and every planet there ever was
or will be
filled the sky
with celestial breath."
Maybe if I were taller
in morality or even terrestrial beauty
I would be able to touch one
but today the words escape me
because they aren't mine at all
but trenched deep
in the irreversible mind of Plath,
or lost behind a bookshelf
somewhere in Amsterdam,
or concealed in your indescribable eyes
and trembling hands,
or flying sweetly like Icarus
over my head
in wicker baskets.
Author notes
Celestial Mushroom
A contest entry
- it starts with one. by aanika.
910 points, ended November 13, 2008, 17 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
How can I make it better?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This is a great poem, beautiful imagery and flow. The second stanza is wonderful. The whole feeling, of wistful longing, and the images of hot air balloons of words that would connect, if they could be caught, is well presented. Congratulations on the trophy, good work!
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oh wow.
I just tried to copy and paste my favorite parts and realized it was almost the entire poem.
this is BEAUTIFUL.
thank you so much.
electric half-note dreams, sound waves
and senses of time and space
that float endless sun-spans
above me
in wicker baskets sailing home
and out of my reach.
There are words in the baskets
that say in brand new languages
or unseen colors,
gorgeous.
just gorgeous. -
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No no, thank YOU.
This made my day a little better.
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It's about the Monotone again, isn't it? IRELAND
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Only partially, only partially!
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your title is:
over my head
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