caspar david friedrich mountain landscape with rainbow (detail)
soft grey fingers
cross the far hills
and glide across the gardens
i know
that soon they will hold
my own tired hands
.
as they
flow under the darkened house
a song tumbles from my mouth
wordless
self-conscious
it inches like a vine
attaching
single notes
to the inside of the window
.
i write by
the glow of the night-rainbow's arc
whose feeble light
settles like dust
on the leafy curtain
of my creation
24 comments:
I write by the glow of the night-rainbow's arc.......such a gorgeous line.
Nice, gentle words Steven - like a nice gentle night settling in.
I feel tenderness for the Song in this poem. It is truly a wonder to be part and witness of its creation and expression.
Each verse holds gems...
I believe I caught your words before I read them... My email will explain! LOL
I don't know why but this makes me feel so sad.
What a lovely, quiet progression of thought.
Pearl
sometimes you leave me wordless...
Sometimes, I look at my hands and see my mother's.
Beautiful verse, Steven. Just keep singing.
Oh, too sad. I'm wordless too, do hope you're OK.
annie - when i saw the painting i wondered at night rainbows. they exist. we can't see them. but surely they glow. surely. steven
weaver - there's a softness about this piece, a gentleness that has as much to do with melancholy as it has to do with waiting for energy to flow again. steven
ruth the wordless song is a thing of wonder. it finds its source beyond the mouth, beyond the lung, beyond air. it is entirely placed in the moment unfolding. steven
valerianna - in the heaven of indra there is a necklace made of pearls each a mirror of the pearl beside it. into infinitude. steven
thankyou for the image jinksy. it's remarkable. steven
lilith it openly welcomes death - the death of . . . well something . . . and we associate sorrow with death. in this instance the present moment is welcoming an event from the future which of necessity pushes the "present" into the past and so it passes through a sort of leaving - a death. perhaps that is where your sorrow is placed. steven
hello pearl, despite the sense of foreboding and sorrow there is goodness about this expression of my understanding of the passing and leaving of a state of being. steven
pauline - silence is a state that i welcome when its terms are linked with the welcoming of the future. steven
jo - yesterday i had a post prepared that featured a photograph of my father's hand. he sent it to me because he knew i would unpack the associations with that hand. so yesterday i did. everything. it doesn't look like my hand although my hands are aging (i'm fifty four this august!) and i was ready to push the publish button and i felt such compassion for him and for his life which he brought to a fruitful and loving conclusion in so many ways that i deleted the entire piece. your comment is so resonant and i am not astonished. there's no need. steven
alaine - i am almost entirely alright. thanks for your care. read through the comments and you'll see the place this post comes from and where it is pointing. steven
The words transmit feelings, the poetry is very close to the soul of man. Wonderful.
oa.s
oa.s, thankyou for this very generous and insightful comment. steven
Steven, as always, a thoughtful flow here. I can picture the darkened house, the single notes, the feeble light settling like dust...
In reading this poem, there is a welcoming into it, a stepping into that makes me want to linger.
This post was very well written, and it also contains a lot of useful facts. I appreciated your distinguished manner of writing this post. Thanks, you have made it easy for me to understand. It's rarely the best idea to jump into a new project - even one as fun and potentially rewarding as pursuing an online arts degree - with both feet before testing the waters
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