Origin Of The Flame...1* Poem by elysabeth faslund
Origin Of The Flame...1*
I woke with words tangled
Under my nails,
As blood beneath
Dragon scales...during
The kill.
Something, someone...
They are the same...
Will stop breathing
By nails, words, blood,
But grieve nonetheless,
For one who swallows these
Words, not their
Meaning.
Or, meaning misread,
Leans on it's
Knife.
A scorpion lays sleeping
Under the Dragon.
Who will move first...
At what cost?
Accepted for publication by Orbis Journal, England,8-21-07. Today.
Will appear in their Fall issue.
Your first line is brilliant, drawing the reader into your tale of dragons and drama and magical jabberwocky imaginings. Looking forward to the next in the series. love, Allie xxxx
Similar to your 4th one, is it not? I wonder what provoked you to write this series. very foreboding, graphic.
Sensational! A feast of mythic images. You leave so much for the reader to do - placing great trust in the reader's willingness and power to imagine all the rest.
Elysabeth, I love reading your poems like this because they challenge my imagination and hopefully expand it. There is so much meaning in what you say that it takes me a while to dig it out. I don't quite succeed all the time. Even the title is mystifying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 3:22:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I woke with words tangled Under my nails, Your choice of words and images are very artful and meaningful. The beginning of your poems certainly catch one's attention.