Did I ever sing,
as if the song could hear my hollow,
did Maine not explain
in far-side rain,
the love that heals transitional silence?
I climb in rhyme,
a withering vine,
my words transcending bones and glitter,
her ears,
the eyes of skies to flitter
what poetry craves when no one listens.
Give my brush her blood-stoked paint
where kindred sigh blooms one more motion,
and carnage blames no one further,
down dirt-road trek of abandoned failure.
Nature knows tears are patient puppets,
prophets,
our fingers prime in speculation that heart might beat
inside her mountain
until the blush of morning matters
when she might read
my next dimension.
Pardon busy line,
my mild exclusion of fear and feather,
when world is wasted will of weather
and all we hope is bound together
in one last spirit-quip,
to tether.
For there is not greater flyer,
when raven ruffles winded conversation
through rustic she-wolf
in native earth-convergence,
for what blows wag through tail that matters.
Author notes
This is for Carol
In a list
A contest entry
- Honoring Those Who Inspire Us (Part 1) (Contest) by poet2angels.
825 points, ended May 31, 12 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Wow~
I am in need of reading more and Love how You penned and brought Carol to us~ showed us her Beauty through Your words
I imagine her smiling after digesting Your verse~ Bravo!!
Missed reading Your Musings and inhaling Your messages...I'll be by more often~
Excellent this is my Friend
Congratulations on Your shiny!
-throws confetti-
Woot!
Thank You for sharing Your Heart
Best wishes in all You do
with love & light~ Desire~*~
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Amazing! This is the perfect kind of poem for Carol. It is intense and evocative. Her voice is like no other, and I am glad to see her honored with such brilliant lines!!!
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"what poetry craves when no one listens..."
a cry of spirit in a wildnerness where no one speaks the same language, but you and Carol--born kindred spirits in poetry, and she knows in wisend eyes, the heart of crave and the fluted hollows of kaibab's song, winged or earthen-convergences of heartbeat.
~ Karen
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a wonderful tribute to a true inspiration. Well done
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This is, as always, stunning poetry...the sounds carry messages on their own, the words dance on the page, and I am humbled by such as you, my friend, who is poetic Brava, always, to me!
Thank you, my friend, thank you, you bring tears to my eyes with your belief in my peotry!
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This is amazing and so fitting for the queen of inspiration herself!
"For there is not greater flyer,
when raven ruffles winded conversation
through rustic she-wolf
in native earth-convergence,
for what blows wag th roughtail that matters."
This is so beautiful, Rich, and Carol will be so touched!
She is deserving of every lovely word...
TY for joining with me in honoring her!
Lynda
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This certainly is an honor, my goodness.
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Carol has always been my soul's sustenance, when others fell away from view. She deserves every kind word, every sweetest thought we can muster in her name. Beautifully done, dear Scribe of the Mountain. I know she'll be thrilled. Good luck in Lynda's contest, Sweetie.
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Thrilled is meager translation for what I feel. For him to write me poetry is such a gift. Makes my heart do a loopy dee loop with Joy!
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