I cannot tell
where the blurriness
of eye
ends
and the blurriness
of the world
begins
as emotions swirl
and twirl
the very hues,
and colors blend
and brighten
and fade.
the ground itself
seems
another
world
and sounds,
but distant
echos
in the way
of dreams
of falling
7 comments:
Wonderful soft tones, the words across the page are like clouds across the sky, in the way of summer days, grassy carpets, buzzing and chirping. The blurring, blending and swirling, the sounds that are distant and the reference to dreams, falling lent credence to this imagery as one read...which is only to say something of the sound, the tones, the rolling of the words, or flow if you will. Beautifully written, inspired also in its portrayal, the blur(meaning) within reflected in the images/emotion that is created.
Poetry in every sense.
Well, I think I like your interpretation of this poem better than the reality behind it. As always my dear Sunshine, thank you for your very, very kind words.
Re-reading my comment, I see what I missed saying clearly. "which is only to say something of the sound, the tones.." It reminds me of a phrase you once wrote about Monet. The poem is beautiful, the tones are soft, and having the incredible poem above and been sent so into the realms of awe that I declared it gorgeous and more or less left it at that, between the two, so different from one another yet both excellent, and I think of your poetry as a whole and the unique, natural and infinite talent (heart) that you are. I would say I may never return, recover, from being this wowed, but it would be truer to say I never did, that I remain there permanently. Happy day ahead, x
oh, Tree, this has totally blown me away - for me, it reads like a photography manifesto, my photography manifesto...
it's sacred...
As much as I love The Story, your poetry stirs something very different within me. Your poetry brings me back over and over and leaves me speechless.
TIGHT HUGS and WARM KISSES
XOXOXOXO
hhHH
LotL, you are the second person to say the poetry moves them in a way The Story doesn't. Sigh. I don't know what to say other than the feeling I have is bittersweet. Bitter in the sense that The Story is my baby, my passion, the cornerstone and the place I pour the most effort; Sweet in that it feels good that something I do is able to move someone and seen as you describe it here. So let me put it this way: Thank you.
I will say this: The Story is longhand and the poetry is shorthand. In other words, as short as story chapters are, they still are like a plane taking off; whereas the poetry is pure rocket.
Roxana, I could say the same for your photography and the elegant grace of your accompanying prose and poetry. Thank you for blessing my life with your comments, kisses each and every one.
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