the window, a vast meridian she bows her forehead to there
where dreams, and also in mirrors, dreams, she’d seen
the ink in the bottle
an old romantic gift, and the quill so bright,
its yestermoments like naked twigs on once fragrant snow
absorbed now as remnants through linen, without ambition, once swirled
promises to wild geese of eternal flight and cruising
no words now ...
the old man outside is playing his violin up into Spring winds again
Author notes
this poem is dedicated to anybody out there who is aching or who forgot to turn the knob when the door was unlocked
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcvAUMyGAPw&feature=related
background photography by author
background wash by Night Hope
In a list
Comments
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a most excellent write
From the opening lines, I knew I was hooked
the window, a vast meridian she bows her forehead to there
where dreams, and also in mirrors, dreams, she’d seen
all I can offer is a very long sigh

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now here's a poem
the brevity of this write compare to your last too really struck me...I felt as if these words were so carefully chosen and placed into fragments of a soft poem...the ending is stunning..but I love every line of this one...have to go back up and re-read
well done!!!
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This is yet another glorious poem, Danny. I especially liked how you included the history of the quill along with mentioning linen paper. Since we are both writers, not typist/composers, it holds even more meaning, I think. Your phrase, "like naked twigs on once fragrant snow" is such a stunning image. Wonderful penning, you bright and shiny thing, you. I love you, Mister.
♥ 



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Delightful, Danny. Your poem (as always) makes demands on the reader, but those demands are amply rewarded - a rich and imaginitively satisfying read...I can still hear the old man's violin playing!
All the best,
Bill





