The red butterfly
flying on the lower hem
of your robe
reminds me Autumn
is a season of sudden flights.
A green thread circles
the red butterfly, and
both move in perfect sync.
Circle and insect are
witnesses to the passing seasons.
Autumn moves in stately
measures toward winter
and the New Year. We are
its fellow travelers.
The butterfly is grounded until Spring.
So there will be no singing
in my life for the next six
months. I will search
in the partial silences
of the world A Redeeming Music.
By Thanksgiving I will return
to our society. By Christmas
I will be teaching the Chorus
new melodies you must learn by heart.
By New Year's Day we will ready to premiere.
Where will I look for these melodies?
Are some lodged in the corridors of
my brain? Are song birds presently
singing them? Can you hear the lone flute?
the solitary guitar? From my dreams... all of them.
You always deliver a treat for us to read, discover new thoughts to think, new realms to explore... you sing us into a state of poetry where you reign with lines like these: Where will I look for these melodies? Are some lodged in the corridors of my brain? Are song birds presently singing them? Can you hear the lone flute? the solitary guitar? From my dreams... all of them.
A beautiful lyric poem full of great metaphor. Gentle lines 'Autumn moves in stately measures toward winter' Sad and melancholy like the changing of Autumn to Winter. Great write
By Thanksgiving I will return to our society. By Christmas I will be teaching the Chorus new melodies you must learn by heart. By New Year's Day we will ready to premiere.
Where will I look for these melodies? Are some lodged in the corridors of my brain? Are song birds presently singing them? Can you hear the lone flute? the solitary guitar? From my dreams... all of them.
Hey, Daniel! Just read your latest three postings and noticed in this and the " Witness" one five-line stanzas. Did I ever mention that I learned from Jungian Psychiatrist Allen Chinen that five is a recurring and significant number in fairy tales relating to middle and later age? Anyway, I liked the dreamlike imagination of this one. And yes, where will we find these melodies? -Glen
Mesmerized by your profound poem, Mr. Daniel Sir! Such a loveliest, bit with melancholy autumnal poem. I have enjoyed very much your fascinating poem.5***** 5 Stars. I can be dreaming about this so cutest, sweet poem. We all can hear the music in this poem. Fantastic!
Silence is louder than a song. Isolation is good for introspection. Those who remains with self they learn more from surroundings. ***
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, I can hear that flute and that guitar. They're in my dreams, too. Very nice poem.