I have not settled, on…
A song I like.
And, dear that is why - I write!
I glean to touch an angel’s feather
But all I do is roll like a bolder…
Strewn-down the mountain-side
Bruised the color of purple heather
By these empty, ‘words’, hell for leather.
Comments
Anvar2 | July 25, 2012 - 15:46
I very much enjoyed this, especially the last two lines. I liked the image of 'Bruised the color of purple heather' - found it very evocative. But I was a little confused about the word 'glean' in the title and 4th line. What do you mean by it?
Thanks for sharing.
Mark Heathcote | July 25, 2012 - 22:54
“Glean” here to gather grain or other produce left by reapers
The reapers gathered here being poets and their manuscripts the grain being those humble words we use, food for thought. The feather is a wish to touch the hem of something celestial out of reach. Like that wish to write or sculpt or paint one master piece in that brutal push for perfection!
I have not settled, on…
A song I like.
And, dear that is why - I write!
I thank you for question and your kind words and I hope the poem makes better reading for you with my explanation. :)
Anvar2 | July 25, 2012 - 23:02
Ah - I was reading it wrong in my head, thanks for such an elegant explanation.