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Axilea MU

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by Axilea MU

Thursday, May 26, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
•  Simply-fire
•  In Transit
•  Unended
•  Anima-L
•  Glyph
           >> View all 270

Alive at the moment of typing
who cares what happened before -
a roaring dandelion in a forgotten garden
or a mimosa pudica hiding in the mist
who cares who I was before -
who cares who I was - before
I was her

to walk in her steps
to fall in her traps
to stitch up her cracks with tenuous hope
to touch her tattered dress -
who cares who she was
even before
she was her

or there
before some point
before the fallen tree trunk
that is now covered in moss
was the path she walked -
but I only know the movement within
and the migration of sandhill cranes

yet another her
a prisoner in autumn
poisoned in grey
released in spring
with a poetic ray of inspiring copper
gone - but who cares!
I saw-felt winged presence soar
a birdwatcher I am
resting my wings
living in the now.



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Reviewed by J Howard 8/10/2011
very picturesque, very lovely...thanks
Reviewed by D. Vegas 6/16/2011
Axilea, Living in the here and now---Love
the way you write your poetry!
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 5/30/2011
So much depth is expressed in your verses here, Axilea. So well-expressed. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes,

Reviewed by Christine Alwin 5/30/2011
Miraculous in birth, lessons learned along the way...LOVE this!!!
Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen 5/28/2011
Such a wise message here Axilea, we must not forget to forget. But 'tis the foundation on a scar which we build our temples on, the strongest of bedrock. As do the mountains stand from the painful shifting of plates in the bosom of Mother's Earth, so must we then rise living in the now.

you are terrific
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 5/28/2011
I get very much the birdwatcher feel to this, Axilea. The tone is like the way a bird sand-bathes or preens - it can seem quite fast and furious - even, perhaps, aggressive to the eyes of the onlooker. Like the bird is irritated with itself. I know the feeling and can often feel unaccountably "ruffled" by a cameo or snapshot experience in my day: some silly, trifling thing - which is no more than a single-dimensional snapshot perspective and accident of time and timing - will completely scupper my satisfaction with the day and I'm left disgruntled and out of sorts. Who cares?! Is often the empty answer I give myself in order to try and shift the niggle, but it seldom works. Only by giving it up and entering true rest - wings folded dovelike - and letting the moment go brings any sort of relief. This is such absorbing writing that it conjures many and varying interpretations that strike personal challenging chords. Love the boldness in writing here - like Mahler music!
Reviewed by Sheila Roy 5/27/2011
You always fascinate, Axilea. Love the way you used color in your last verse. For me, there's a sense of being formed by the past...evolving.
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 5/27/2011
Not who she was, Axilea, but who she is in the here and now
that lights up my screen. -gene.
Reviewed by Christine Tsen 5/27/2011
Oh my goodness Axilea, this is exquisite!!!
A tremendous force of nature, travelling in layers ~
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader) 5/27/2011
this is pure poetry dripping from your pen all the way through........
Reviewed by Felix Perry 5/27/2011
It sometimes takes a lot to finally take flight and leave the nest behind but that is also the only way we will ever soar....
Reviewed by John Flanagan 5/26/2011
Love the "...I only know" and not "only I know"..
i pick that out, Axilea, because on my first read through
it struck me the most forcibly of all the fine phrases
in this work of observance and reflection.
"Air is now" was a phrase of mine you picked out in 'air'
and i feel you've gone a step further than i did and into
a realm of deeper knowing.
This is a beautiful poem.

Reviewed by Charlie 5/26/2011
Elegant, hopeful, and roaring of its own accord. I love it. --Charlie
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 5/26/2011
The now is all we really have but don't rest those wings too long. Patrick
Reviewed by Alan Abrams 5/26/2011
layers of time, layers of space, layers of self, interwoven--a multi dimensional tapestry
Reviewed by stan nassano 5/26/2011

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