Ars Poetica
By Silver Spun Sand
Tue, 13 Jan 2015
- 1434 reads
6 comments
you are
a blade of grass –
a teardrop at its tip
you are
a small white flower –
five points of a star
you are
ripples
in a lake kissing
my naked hips
you are
the rustle
of a bee amongst
the heather
you are
afternoon, when
the skin of the morning
splits
you are
a flock of birds –
morning on their wings...
the hesitant legs
of a day-old foal
the amazement
in a new mother’s eyes,
but, hey...don’t get ideas
above your station
take Daffodils,
Under Milkwood,
Stop All the Clocks;
life’s blood, or,
a load of tosh
it's not up to you
to decide
you are
but words...merely the poem;
the things of which you speak,
themselves,
tell a different story
all these, and more...
are the poetry
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Comments
Lovely images, as ever, Tina.
Permalink Submitted by Parson Thru on
Lovely images, as ever, Tina. The only one I'm not sure about is the thin brown line of a bee, though it's probably me. Should the final line read you're poetry?
Parson Thru
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1 User voted this as great feedback
Your collection of images in
Your collection of images in the early part of this is breathtaking as usual, and displays your noticing eye and clarity of putting the images into words succinctly for others.
– but poetry can be about all sorts of things, the pleasant, the difficult, the vile, and with perceptive comment, or insidious. We have to choose what we should write about and how to touch others with the arranged words? Rhiannon
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Beautiful, it's amazing what
Permalink Submitted by Philip Sidney on
Beautiful, it's amazing what stirring up words can make.
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