November falls...
We walk through endless eras of gray leaves.
The mood, exhilarating to mind touch,
Is painting us on white panes of the air.
Wind plays its harp.
Life is a Psalm compelling, bittersweet.
Time holds us only by a whisper here.
Old glamour is as western as the sun.
You take my hand,
And tell me stories of a thousand dusks.
Your words light all the windows of my house.
Soul music, Friend, creates eternal sound.
For my November friend, Rajaram Ramachandran
The words for love, the poetry of sacred friendship are always painted in you’re your melancholy and masterful landscapes of the soul.
I like how it all leads up to the last line... each word creating resonating rhythms that reach the crescendo of eternal music- Soul music...playing through your poetic harp
You take my hand, And tell me stories of a thousand dusks. Your words light all the windows of my house. Soul music, Friend, creates eternal sound.......................oh what a kind of poetry that rejuvenates the soul through strings of gentle Beethoven`s note harping the words of eternity, great write dear,10++++, thanks for sharing
Beatiful poem so beautifully constructed. I loved it. Thank you so much for sharing.
Beautifully lyrical. You brought the cool refreshing November air to me on this August morning.
Sandra Fowler's poetry embroiders silken silvery images of autumn's romance on the canvas of the sunset soul. CP
How gently you take your readers in a world that is otherworldly; make them feel the impalpable and see the imperceptible. Alison is right, these are the sublime emotions experienced by our Indian mystics which are expressed 'often so much less eloquently expressed than you'. This is the language of the universe, the language of the soul which, if listened to more attentively by everyone, will erase all barriers of religion, race and colour. Once again, one of the most eloquent, expressive, compassionate pens has scribbled its way across the page. I doff my hat in reverential silence. Leonard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
music played in any tunes or instruments used by every orchestra could be a subject for a good poetry..yours is a very nice piece...i appreciate the manner these things merge into one, , only in your poetry dear sandra..