And your bird can fly*
A needle, a few tools, colorful threads and the exquisite
feeling of flowing words, I set out to weave my poem (She's not there.)
An imposing image of her as the hands set in motion,
she smiles through the thin veil of perception. (She's so far away-)
Aloof, longing and frosty eyed; she dances in between the threads. tommorow brings us closer just a little bit more so.
An aching spread of intoxicated whiffs, calms her down
the unsettling music offers no door. (Just for now;)
F A R
S
I
GHT
All across the great divides the threads lodge themselves in
bringing to the empty space, splashes of her in reminiscence.
Even the most beauteous creation, falls just a little short.
the essence isn't around, the aroma masked.
Tear away the space, rip apart the colours.
blunted needles and a longing desire (Its done now and what)
Far away the bird cruises in the skies.
revelling in flights of fancy, yet disconcertingly so;
The Poem becomes her.
Song Update : Dianne Reeves - When I Fall (Instrumental)
Labels: Experience, Experimentation, Imagery, Reflecting, Self indulgence, Surreal
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 at 23:48.
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