What an orb,
nucleus-enlightened rush to heaven's humility,
our frosted ground absorbing grace,
singing brighter noise
as promised gift, riding high to blissful blue,
calling field through flowing mother;
color, cascading dream,
melting mountain,
sister as brother,
such voices raised in vernal conversations.
Magnanimous is breath, mending offered ache,
when winter tunes last-echoed ice ,
conductor ready,
and earth comes home to heal itself
through petals buzzing in universal reincarnation.
We are here,
the now of thousands, our wealthy heartbeat
sent to hear sweet, inner prophet
speak in mutual tongues
of terrestrial tears, and philanthropic laughter.
These are eyes of solar shining,
season passing waves with golden purpose,
sharing love-lost, generous words,
like ancient poets translating wind;
when fingers turn to drops of dew
holding crystal in blossomed lips,
resurgence mingling fortunes down solitary river,
seeking seas of bountiful sunset,
with sharing minds,
toward the one,
sighing day of orange horizon,
this western edge of eastern meditation,
bowing fresher glance
at freedom.
In a list
A contest entry
- The Bowing Tree by maa.
777 points, ended January 15, 2009, 7 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
uplifting poem, congrats on winning gold
-
absolutely marvelous ...
this verse seems to spring from a source that is so alive, yet so peaceful at the same time ... I can sense the unity, the merging of hearts, in profound harmony ...
inner and outer melting and being one another ...
manifestation not different from formless stillness ...
colorful explosion of joy at one with transparent humbleness, that doesn't belong to puffed up personalities ...
"listening to the inner prophet" - how enchanting ...
"earth healing itself" - how soothing ...
"frosted ground absorbing grace" - how heart-opening ...
"this western edge of eastern meditation,
bowing fresher glance
at freedom." - how liberating ...
thank you, dear translator of grace,
maa
-
Rich are your words, dear Scribe...
"Magnanimous is breath, mending offered ache"
As ever, your words continue to evolve, becoming ever more luminous, my Friend. Marion will love your beautiful, tender, poignant & naturally~based metaphors & descriptions here, Sweetie. Good luck in the contest. I would imagine, considering where you are, all trees bow as you pass, in acknowledgement of your awesome Spirit...for they well know you acknowledge theirs, too. 
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