Your words—They drift like drizzle down to bead me;
I stumble through the vacant ways you lead me.
Each night, beneath the shifting gaze of your eye,
I listen for the silent words you feed me.
How can my clay begin to learn its aspect
If your caress will never cease to knead me?
I am for you to harrow or abandon;
Just know my heart longs for your grace to weed me.
I never learned to fence with words like foils,
And so I feared that their misuse would bleed me.
A lone rose sways on arid desert breezes;
Each day it asks the sky, “why did you seed me? ”
“Why torment me, ” one day I asked, “with your song? ”
“Zahhar”, I heard, “deep in your heart you heed me.”
Erin Thomas's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Published in Muse Apprentice Guild in Fall of 2003.
This is a ghazal poem.
Comments about this poem (Tillage by Erin Thomas )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Carolyn Ford Witt
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- And Death Shall Have No Dominion, Dylan Thomas
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- On the Ning Nang Nong, Spike Milligan
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