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.....E...S....S....E....N....C.....E......
Rain is speaking
beneath the sky
a paper roams
indifferent filling dark
eyes on font
subtle soft like chalk
a dampness clinging
full of illusions
the pains of growth
healed and broken
I remember our river
chilled with the spring
the slush flowing swift
like blossoms of winter
gardens of lush
knowing
I remember the summers
we put away the love
in sacred places
treasured however
soiled with rain
and swept sweet
with light
the music of it
falling within
falling in
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Comments
Nordic cloud
Wed, 2013-01-23 10:46
" falling within falling in"
Oh wow what a finale Steven,...
" falling within
falling in"
the only thing that I tripped on
was the need you felt to add "however",
I don't think its needed.
A very fascinating poem that can be read
many times and still hold our interest.
As aye Ann.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
Esker
Wed, 2013-01-23 20:45
My Dear Norse Ann
I meant to write Forever..which is totally like cliche
but however..
which is an oddity within an odd poem
How grand that you spotted this
and here were are..
You are correct!!
Thank YOu!
Frenchf
Wed, 2013-01-23 16:04
Men with a heart
Not many in this world or am I a cynic?
Lovely write
Esker
Wed, 2013-01-23 20:47
There are many Frenchf
like a secret code or talk way
it only comes out in the most random
I find when Im frustrated with something
Im silent and brooding and people
approach and unhinge their happy
treasures or wants or share..
like the last time I want to see fuzzy
warm thoughts or go on a happy hunting
errand....I have to be very vigilant on this
because its like being patient
and getting little tricks that lead to bigger
spells for greater magic
one cannot be a graet wizard if one cannot
master the simplest of listening and focus...
anger does not build card houses of splendour
thank you
sueb
Wed, 2013-01-23 18:52
lovely x
lovely x
Esker
Wed, 2013-01-23 20:47
Thank You
Sueb
Seren
Thu, 2013-01-24 02:49
Steven
I remember the summers
we put away the love
in sacred places
treasured however
I am living in one such summer
putting away our treasures
in our sacred places
lovely lovely poem steven I cannot find anything to fault
I loved that ending, falling within falling in ahhhhhh
love JC xxx
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats
loved
Thu, 2013-01-24 03:15
i think the paras Serendipity has chosen
I would have also,
but each word you coin is classic
loved
Esker
Sat, 2013-01-26 08:57
This whole poem was inspired by an old Lover
a winter lover...
ice on cedars..
the window open the cool winter air
radiator heat...
years later she visited a town I was near..
but never came to visit me...(strange I know)
she wrote love notes and put them under
the table leg in a resturant she thought I
might visit knowing I see everything...She knew
I would notice that the table was not wobbly anymore
and look at the legs to see matchbook or folded fliers
to prop it sturdy so coffee didnt spill...(and see OUR
note!!) Bit I went to the bar across the street in the
basement where the red head waitress always made
me fresh coffee and brought me my dinner platter.
And my lover would put the poems between the bricks
on the old Hotel Bar knowing I would find them....but
I never knew then to look.. we were always like this
miles and miles apart and yet so close in hearts...to
this day....Our best writing is to each other lately..
Nordic cloud
Tue, 2013-01-29 03:23
defies space and time.
How the bond of friendship once tied,
genuine, never can be untied, the similarity of thoughts,
the understanding between us gives a dimension
that defies space and time.
Nice story, although it is no story, it is so.
Ann of Norway.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
Esker
Sat, 2013-02-02 02:16
broken poetry
mosaic of history
we shelter this
behind our doors
laying in the stillness
lit by streetlamps
the tree branch dance
the night whistle from the plants
drop into dreams down rabbit holes
and step through mirrors
sleeping in our rooms
the two moons sometimes
shinning
there are wonders and horrors
to all this
like a cold rain on cobblestone
when all the windows
are dark with night
and empty of eyes
Nordic cloud
Sat, 2013-02-02 02:54
Love THIS poem of yours.
Love THIS poem of yours.
"Broken poetry"
Ann.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.