Not dew, nor mists on meadows,
or sun, flowering warm fan of invasion.
No. You were closed secret,
teaser of dreams,
twang sculpted in an intimate niche of awakening,
shifting shadow into etch
slowly
against white walls.
You were motion stirred from slumber:
at first a tantalizing tremble, breezed
by graceful weave.
Then you turned to quaver,
bee's buzz, frenzied in its zigzag jazz,
buzzing buzzing buzzing beat
to a sudden ...
break.
Good morning, Love.
Our eyes wide lakes, clear blue
adrift on blush in bleed;
our fingers reeds
entwined.
Yes. Then you became tulip,
tremolo,
and I your crystal vase.
Author notes
Prompt: in tangerine mornings you were something new
A contest entry
- Reserve a Number and wait.... by Cannonsfire.
3500 points, ended July 14, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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what a beautiful poem, abstract with great metaphors, i really like it.
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I loved this.
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This is just beyond beautiful. This is the poetic heart of selflessness on sublime display. In the long run it is how much beauty did we encourage that defines us far more than the beauty we shone ourselves.
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Such sweet and soft words here, spoken in the sounds of nature and of music. Lovely
C
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How lovely this ideal of the flower and the body a vase to hold it in. When I read this the thought came to me that God is like a flower living inside us. We are the body that holds this precious flower. Thank you pretty poetest for sharing your spiritual insights with us.
Good luck in the contest and much love to you,
Judy
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wow...that is so...speechless*....beautiful piece..u manage to draw the readers in so effortlessly...the lines r so well written..the words so wisely spoken..the sentiment behind it so real..so true..lovely write ..best of luck in the contest
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in tangerine mornings you were something new,
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