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Between the Lines

Starlight and roses my vigil keep,
vespers whisper, windchimes weep
for stolen blissful clime to steep
tea leaves and tears before I sleep.

Dream lapsed shadow, indigo grew
cauldron of silence, broken-heart brew,
once meld of skin and amaranth dawn
in velour hours, curtains drawn.

Incant and murmur, a dusty shelf,
to resurrect my would-be self,
melody chancing dance borne blue,
in maidenhair kiss and morning dew ~

While moonlight taunts of poetry and paper
rise hungrily,  hauntingly, echoes and vapor



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Comments

1 - 20 of 20

  • AngelBellerose gold member
    May 2, 2009

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    this is truly and awesome piece...While moonlight taunts of poetry and paper rise hungrily, hauntingly, echoes and vapor... the words flow off this line like a sensuous wine broken heart brew... i love this !!! Bravo!!! the whole way the poem reads Hugs Angel♥


    • klassy lassy
      May 2, 2009
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      Thank you, sweet Angel! ... the hours spent on wine broken hearts searching for feathers to wing...


  • W B Burkholder
    March 12, 2009

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    Klassy this is such a beautiful piece of writing, from you background to the words and delivery of them BRAVO BRAVO


    • klassy lassy
      March 12, 2009
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      Thank you, Bill. This poem was DQ'd from a contest within minuntes after I submitted it because of the rhyme, even though I didn't break any rules. I'm glad you approve, though. You make me feel much better about my writing. ~ K


      • W B Burkholder
        March 12, 2009
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        Klassy i have always been a big fan of your work. there is a gentle softness in your words, I take respite in reading them each time. DQ shmee Q LOL, they dont know what their missing. shame on them I'll always be a fan, GOLD trophys all around


  • ea silver member
    February 19, 2009

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    This is a very nicely done sonnet - I can imagine a little hand-painted rose dish somewhere here on this shelf too, perhaps potting the maidenhair fern.


    • klassy lassy
      February 20, 2009
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      Now, so can I imagine that little rose-painted dish, and warm capable hands placing a live blossom inside it on the dining room table. She used to sing around the house ... Thank you!


  • MargaretG silver member
    February 14, 2009

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    The images are heartbreaking and lovely, with wonderful use of poetic devices; I love "cauldron of silence, broken-heart brew". The melancholy mounts until I have an urge to hug you.
    Many blessings, sweetheart!


    • klassy lassy
      February 14, 2009
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      s Happy Vlentine's Day to you, Margaret. I'm glad you like this one--hugs always most welcome. . . a prayer for you, too! ~ K

  • Bad Bill gold member
    February 13, 2009

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    A gorgeous sonnet, Karen, with some beautiful lines. I especially like "vespers whisper, windchimes weep."

    Excellent,

    Bill


    • klassy lassy
      February 13, 2009
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you, Bill. This write was like that line in the writing... I heard soft enchantment before I could touch it. Thank you for sharing your thought on it.


  • Nicolette gold member
    February 12, 2009

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    Only you can write like this, only you knows the heart and the soul's longing and are able to lay it as gently as you did against this page, give breathe to our sighs.. Beautiful poetry, so soft, so tender - so much here between the lines, Karen. The reference to windchimes made my mind travel...far, far..



    ~ Nicolette


    • klassy lassy
      February 13, 2009
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      Windchimes are music on the wind, and they do carry the mind far, far... It makes me smile to think of the life which breathes them into melodies.

      Karen


  • cup-a-joe silver member
    February 12, 2009

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    Beautiful

    Karen,
    Loved the gentle rhymt, like a soothing rain.
    Great poem.

    Joe


    • klassy lassy
      February 13, 2009
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      Rain soothes the parched and is for greening. I always have a hard time picking a favorite color when someone asks me...because I love light, liquid, and the growing things which sustain us. It becomes a specturm that puts me in awe. Thanks, Joe.


  • Yemassee gold member
    February 12, 2009

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    A lovely poem that shows the highs and lows and finally the resurrection, whether it is love, health or one's emotional state, the language is facile enough to lend to all those possibilities and more.

    Maybe writing can be a vessel for that change.

    Lovely.


    • klassy lassy
      February 13, 2009
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      I agree. Always, there is influence in what we perceive, dreaming or awake, but when the shadows are challenged, dispelled, then we see light. If we've been walking around in darkness, sometimes it's really bright, and we can only squint for a while. Writing helps me with that, because "we can write whatever we wish upon our page, tear it up, or leave it blank" (Richard Bach), but for me, it tenders thought and experience to voice, and I learn to listen.

      When you comment, I always look again. Thank you, Mayne.


  • Pamela A Lamppa silver member
    February 12, 2009

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    A beautiful and tender sonnet. You brought tears and there is such softness here.
    To resurrect my would be self. Dear soul ...

    A treasure in words. ~Pamela

1 - 20 of 20