Shibboleth...

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 31 Mar 2014
  • 1205 reads
8 comments
 
Soft they fall
like distant thunder;
the final petals
of a last, lonely iris...
 
ochre-throated, 
open-mouthed
gasped its last
from a Lalique
crystal vase...
 
it is the hour
when the dormouse
scuttles through
starry grasses
and against
a gathering darkness
 
a nightingale
in the darkling scrim
climbs its own sweet
ladder of song
a shibboleth
to the night things
 
an open book
a hint of patchouli
and a dint
in a cushion
edged with Breton lace
 
your signature
indelibly etched
on the remains
of the day.
Certificate U
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Nature
Love

Comments

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

I find your poetry so beautiful and with such lovely images. I've read it a few times and cannot pick out which bit I like best.

Lindy

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Appreciate your words, Lindy.  Thank yousmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by celticman on

a shibboleth could result in sudden death, there's something sharp and clean here. well done.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, celticsmiley  Pleased you liked, and as to your thoughts on the word, you're dead right there.

 

Submitted by MJG on

juxtaposition of images.... especially like the doormouse climbing...

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

MJG - magical little creatures.  We get quite a few meandering around our garden at this time of the year.  Many thanks for your thoughts.  Very much appreciated.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

Stunning! The picture you paint is electric as is the photo.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hi there, Bee...that photo sure is 'electric'.  Couldn't think of a better way to describe it, and so, so pleased you enjoyed.

Have a great day, whatever you get up tosmiley

Tina