Aubade

Rating: 4.4

There's loneliness and there's this—
an unfrequented song, a startling voice
across years. A shifting position, hymn
from the hard bench, sharp something in
there, glass-glinted. If the movement
of trees in the weather front were enough.
If the notes were off-pitch but piercing
(which they are) as birdcall across
the stirring hour. In the woods,
a rustling of creatures we have no
idea of. Outcrops of limestone, wet leaves
lush and deadly. There's a time for killing,
some tell us, in the corner
of the who-knows-whereabouts. Everywhere,
the roadside lilies in thick morning
dew open orange and in numbers, one
after the other. Sun so strange it's as
though our looking, for a time, is first.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 15 March 2016

Oh, yes! ! ! This is a poet who is not afraid to play with words and string them together like many colored beads to get the emotional reaction she want. Bravo!

18 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 15 March 2016

Mind blowing narration and amazing style of presentation . Thanks for sharing here.10 points.

0 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 15 March 2016

Sun so strange! ! But, with the muse of love. Thanks for sharing.

0 0 Reply
Mehmet Turgut 10 June 2015

Bu siirden birsey anlamadim222

0 1 Reply
Mehmet Turgut 10 June 2015

Bu siirden birsey anlamadim? ? ?

0 2 Reply