as if hope were the blanket
when summer nights turn cool
the sea sends breezes, winds whisper
white curtains in moonlit dance
or if expectations were a pillow
soft and comforting, rest for the heavy brow
when days end as they begin, clutched palms
and silence
and if memories made a welcome to rest
as a pulled shade before unfolding day
when the wishes of one became the wants of another.
Echoes make poor conversation
swallowed by distance and dense trees
where she is the owl in the mountains
wings spread beneath silver in shadows
eyes accustomed to the search
and movement brings her swiftly
but then, she becomes still as the night.
In a list
A contest entry
- where do you go to my lovely? by Nicolette.
4000 points, ended June 15, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Pre-Writes Only by Aerden.
700 points, ended June 19, 29 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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I am reminded of an old film, somewhere in the 90's I suppose, called LadyHawk. A spell is cast upon lovers and by day she is a hawk, by night he, a wolf. The two are always together, but never as they wish they could be. Eyes are "accustomed to the search"
The separation in this piece is so very heavy. There is hope and expectation, which are comforting to be sure, but in the end, it seems fulfillment is just missed.
This was the clincher for me:
"Echoes make poor conversation
swallowed by distance and dense trees".....the echo is such a lonely thing here... to hear only yourself, and that in muted tones, oh how despairing to my reading...especially in light of the trees that make such an insurmountable barrier between here and there.
Yet, when she takes swift flight, my hope is restored, only to sink once again...not completely, for the tone is not such, but it does sink. I do not find the repose of blanket and pillow in that final line. Nor the hollow echo. Something in between. The interpretation could go a couple of ways, and perhaps both are meant, but to me it seemed at "in between" so that the longing was still there. I am intrigued by this. I could read it over and over and likely will to see what else it speaks to me. That curious owl. Where has she found herself?
Love this!
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Beautiful. I wished I could have given more awards. *sigh*
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Ah, sweet rest for which we all search . . . This is full of wonderful imagery and a rich texture and atmosphere. Gentle, but restless as well.
Excellent.
Garrison
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Thank you so much... yes I think we have a part of us...that searches...PK
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Hope has always been my blanket, Poet Man. Throughout the worst winter winds, the softest summer breezes, it has kept me in such comfort. I agree that "Echoes make poor conversation", having had my words echo in the depths of valleys too long to carry to that distant shore. A melancholy penning, yet one that is, indeed, fragrant with hope. Good luck in Nic's contest. 
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Thank you Wanda-
I agree. Hope can be a seed that becomes the flower...thanks so much...PK
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People always tell me I write from the heart, but you, PK, you also write from the heart, from the pulse... This is lovely poetry with wonderful images, clear, yet so very soft too. This poem is filled with light too, even though "she becomes still as night". I liked the wistful feeling this poem left me with and the whispered longing that seems to billow with the curtain, softly. Really lovely poetry - thank you for this entry.
~ Nicolette
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Thank you Nicolette -
I think i would be one of those people, saying that you write from the heart...yes, i agree if we are fortunate we can feel a pulse, and others can see it too, so much beauty in the world...thank you...PK
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So very very beautiful--
whenever I read your work, I feel through your eyes and gather to experience with heart. Wonderful soft realities of nature allowing reader to personalise through transformation. Frans
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I love the images you bring, curtains in the late evening breeze, and the whisper of owlish wings. Illusive feelings, here, then gone, "echoes make poor conversation" Wistful poem...
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Read, and re-read. Your poetry always is so mentally
fulfilling. sighs
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You speak in nice poetic terms that makes one want to go over and over the poem for its pleasure,enjoyed
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Your poetry is anything but still, always full of wonderful imageries. I'm in love with this one, it's one of the 'I want to bottle this and read again and again' poems.
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Sigh~
I hate being repetitive, but your words always touch the reader and bring a sigh...
Lynda
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H.. what can i say... it is a joy to read such love and texture of life.. she is the night and the colour of the moon
most beautimous!!!
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Your words take us on a magical journey, filled with soft and beautiful imagery. You also insert wistfulness and a sense of expectation into this musing. Your lovely metaphors for hope and expectation make the wait so comforting. I always receive a feeling of peace and calm when I read your poetry as you can wrap your words in a down comforter. Good luck in this contest. Peace, Liz
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