“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label lit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lit. Show all posts
Sunday, March 31, 2019
reception
I was called upon
to light the candles
I arose first
to a voice
in the dark
and listened
Over my right shoulder
and above
whispers
as a breeze
would hum
and falls across my skin
like daybreak
It was not necessary
to know
more than could be heard
and I do not ask
for repetition
as in prayer
for a sign
a flicker as sure as
aglow,
I kept
quiet, in order
to Here myself
saying 'Yes'
while carrying the flame.
Painting by Godfried Schalcken, c. 1670-1675 in [Public domain].
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Gravitas
For every poem I put here, there are four more never shared, around six never written and twenty-seven partially thought out. For every word...

-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Someone said, the full moon looks larger in the city because of skyscrapers- which said nothing about people feeling smaller, more co...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...