I am as the dust on moth wing,
releasing
upon a moments outburst
my muted pigmentations.
Blue of swift faith,
orange-brown penetrations of desire,
abiding season of green,
powders
of cyclic metamorphosis
in tawny and ivory tones,
shed from membranes in frantic flight.
I flutter,
my resting-place tenuous
on life's capricious threads
spun in temporal looms,
but weighted by thickness of body
I remain
never barren.
Never remiss of direction
I absolve
all remorse
sip the nectar
of immutable destiny,
approaching from within the obscurity
to fly into the light,
dream iridescence
as this dust scatters from my moth feather,
its minuscule mark
settling on landscapes tomorrow foreseen.
Transformative and delicate to the human spirit as we know it. I liked reading this chosen poetry because it is inspiring to my own nature of sensibilities, Jeanne Rene. This piece has a prophetic slant to it...like an imprint that was left behind long ago...it hits me as timeless and hints of future destiny especially your last paragraph, but this is the line that I see metaphorically transcends the title 'moth wing.' It's deep and ancient...
Jeanne, I love your poetry. The precision of your words is simply wonderful.
("A woman's notebook" is an absolute favorite, one of the best poems I've read on this site)
"my resting-place tenuous
on life's capricious threads"
really beautiful!
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"I absolve
all remorse
sip the nectar,"
Warmly,
Sage
"of immutable destiny,"
("A woman's notebook" is an absolute favorite, one of the best poems I've read on this site)
"my resting-place tenuous
on life's capricious threads"
really beautiful!
Axilea
of cyclic metamorphosis
in tawny and ivory tones,
shed from membranes in frantic flight."
Lyrical, sonorous, and so observant.......I enjoyed this very much Jeanne.....
Bill
Regis