by Axilea MU
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
fading around midnight
The evanescent f(e)ather image
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Instilled stillness colors her essence like the night – slowly, pervasively – tints the day.
Miles away, in her dream, she has a lover,
which is why
she can now
How can he stand light that crushes subtleties, noise that invades brain cells? All the while he wishes for soft curtains instead of a cold screen, open air instead of open space. He would pull out of his plastic carapace-chair and molt in freedom. And all the while he aches with the relief of seeing the day end; the angst of knowing that tomorrow will be the same. Miles away, in his dreams, he has a lover,
which is why
he is now
sheltered in his sleep.
Ethereal encounters are difficult for me to describe: only those who dream know how they happen.
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|Reviewed by Amor Sabor
|I would not rather have the whole world know what ethereal encounters feel like...I am so jealous like that. I must admit, I have struggled with that as well...the falling asleep as well as the inability to wait to do so...to be captivated entirely by a world (of and in) dreams is too easy to be addicted to...and then, I wake up.|
|Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen
|Difficult I think not, and I smile in light of my statement, just as I smile when I read your words that wrap themselves around descriptions of emotions you are the master of.
Your talent is the off spring and your acceptance of its changes is reflected in your beautiful work. I always love to visit such an individual as you, who sees and feels with the third eye.
|Reviewed by David Hightower
|Axilea - I, too, get a sense of night and day here, either literally or figuratively in the sense of personalities. The idea of lovers dreaming and miles away is haunting. I especially like the seeming paradox of, " All the while he wishes for soft curtains instead of a cold screen, open air instead of open space." - David|
|Reviewed by Phyllis Jean Green
|R e m a r k a b l e ~~ !!
More! MORE !!
xOx Phyllis xOx
|Reviewed by Art Sun
|A very interestingly written poem...soul is a peculiar entity, we can fel the presence of our own sol and when we sleep we are released into the world of dreams or the life of the soul...there is where we encounter our most intimate and knowledgable thoughts...it is to dream our .... desire|
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|This is so spot on it takes my breath away, Axilea. It makes me feel highly androgenous! :)) And who among us does NOT know the truth that is encapsulated in your final line? Yet only you have described it so well - in the whole of this fascinating study. A twilight merging of worlds and realities; have you noticed that "teeming" effect that seems to pixilate the vision when attempting to pierce the gloaming? It's like the eye is picking up the osmosis as two worlds blend... xx|
|Reviewed by Paul Judges
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|exceptionally moving with such passion and feeling, indeed one of your very best Axilea.
|Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
|Restless souls, means restless mind. When one is totally "in love", sleep is a bonus..You mind and soul are at rest because you heart is full of love. When I am restless (as I am lately) it is very difficult for me to fall asleep. My dreams become quite intense and pretty out there. When I am in love, I float to sleep, dream heavenly dreams and actually get a good nights sleep..
I understand your lines (she can now fall asleep)
Peace, love and light,
|Reviewed by Dawn Anderson
|Axilea, this is so beautifully written."All the while he wishes for soft curtains instead of a cold screen, open air instead of open space,"...these lines are such perfection in what they cause your reader to feel and in your word choices. Your work just gets better and better. I'm saving this into my library.|
|Reviewed by Charlie
|This reminds me somewhat of a love-affair between day and night-- neither allowed to fully embrace the other but for dusk and dawn--those two hazy between-times as muted as dreams themselves. He would be the night, she the day, blindingly unaware of her own blinding light as he is of his equally blinding darkness, and yet both elements are as essential and beloved as they are feared and avoided for the same qualities.
Gotta love the first two words, and the night creeping into that first phrase as light creeps into the second. --Charlie
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|A passionate paradise of souls ~
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|...so much 'happens' here, happens in the best sense, Axilea,...and that notion of 'open air instead of open space' is one I've thought about quite a bit and resonates with me as it defines viewpoints and levels of awareness and of attitudes toward what is.