The Anatomy of Shadows

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 17 Mar 2014
  • 1490 reads
8 comments
 
She sits with me
on the back porch steps, watching
a tender twilight descend
on the moor.
 
She starts to decipher
how alone I feel
even though I try to tell her I’m
doing fine
 
and then she decides
on the Mahler.  Hold my breath
as a silent epiphany leadens
and the music stops;
 
the star-spritzed song
of a cricket begins, and we
sit on in a darkness, so vast, we cannot
see its end.
Certificate PG
Poem
Spiritual
Love

Comments

Submitted by HarryC on

I struggle to analyse poems like this - but then, I think the best poetry defies analysis (I hope it does!)  The impact is hard to pin down.  A real epiphany here.

'Star-spritzed' - that's inspired onomatopeia!

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Stan, and I hope you're rightsmiley  You certainly know your onomatopeias.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

I think Stan's right - you don't have to analyze, you just have to absorb sometimes - let yourself be taken by the mood, the music and feel. It's often hard to capture the intangible, but Tina, you have a talent. This poem is no exception.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

It is interesting, Bee, that you make that analogy between poetry and music, for they are indeed, very much the same, in my humble opinion, at leastsmiley

 

Thanks, Bee.

Tina

 

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

You can make poignant meaning from persistently indefinable things and that is the sole/soul reason I follow your work. I found your language humbling and majestic. It's really beautiful.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Much appreciate your words, Vera.  Thank yousmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by Don Michael on

Hello Tina,

Someone once told me that shadows do not move.

I am still trying to work it out!

Thanks,

Don

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

 

Hello there, Don,

Yep...so am I...nowsmiley

Many thanks for dropping by.

Tina