I hear the classic verse of your rebuke.
The music of a constant, static bird
Crackles the gray indifference of the sky.
A winter bleach of sunlight stings the eyes.
You bring me coffee in a heavy cup.
Warmth is a burden that no mind can bear.
The pattern of your gesture on the grass
Gives anger a dimension out of time.
My eyes record the image of that sound.
Morning is hammered into words of gold.
The moments slip like lost time down my cheeks.
You tilt my face to catch the amber drops.
Such overwhelming brightness lifts my lids.
No shadow lives against such vividness.
You win the landscape with your poetry.
I trust you to tell no one of its warmth.
Previously published: Ellipsis Magazine, Westminster College, Utah
'My eyes record the image of that sound' -I like this phrase very much. A soul embracing poetry. Work of a refined mind.
beautiful images. i felt so naked reading this - as if you read my soul.
How skilfully you use the imagery of nature to convey a moment of warmth and intimacy. You never reveal too much, but leave the reader to imagine... This is the voice of a true poet. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Great ilmagry displayed here Sandra in this most beautiful poem. A pure work of art, thankyou for sharing this beauty.---Melvina---
your words impart the warmth of poetry deep into my soul...........
The intimacy is so poignant…. some of your poems are so cinematic Sandra...
Astonishing imagery! Compact...........eloquent...........thoughtful indeed! 10+++
true...but a burden one loves to bear...'winning the landscape with poetry' is your usual trait, sandra 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
really like this one. Trust it is an older one of yours. Like everything about it ~ essence, primarily. sjg