This piece is written in the tankabun form, which myself and E.W. Richardson have finalized, and our friend and fellow wordsmith, Renee, christened.
Doors
Skipping among clouds
Moon dances to stars' music
Until morning comes
And it tiptoes silently
Through the swinging doors of time
I watch this nocturnal recital and wonder. Is it only I who hears its whispered concerto? Only I who longs to be moon's partner cavorting in starlit waltz? Surely not, but for this moment I feel I am. This breath in time, this passing rendezvous, is mine alone. No one sees it as I do. No one hears it as I can. No one feels the silence as I feel it. And when morning doors swing closed only I will know what was missed. No one else ever could.
No one else ever will.
You are not alone. I like to look at the moon and dance in the moonlight. Find it increasingly neat and shiney and true to me and always there at nights. Sometimes it is my only comforter when trying to fall asleep.
Reviewed by Stan Grimes (Reader)
Reviewed on August 30, 2008
Marvelous write. So pensive and provoking. I feel honored to have read this. Good luck with "Gustav"
Sweet Lady, You have re-introduced me to DOORS. And, all along I've look at them as invitations or rejections, only. How stupid of me, and what an eye-opener your poetry is for me. You must have had a special moment after writing this one. How rewarding! Wit Luff, - Bill
Stirring with thoughts of unigueness that makes the reader want to know more about what resides behind those doors to midninght. Well done Myrna.
hugs
Fee
My book of poetry is being redone by me, I have a beautiful cover designed and the book will have a few more than 200 poems in it. I am going to have it printed on demand here in Canada. When it is done I will let you know when it is done and if anyo
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
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your swinging doors of time. Beautiful. I like this form.
-gene.
Sweet Lady, You have re-introduced me to DOORS. And, all along I've look at them as invitations or rejections, only. How stupid of me, and what an eye-opener your poetry is for me. You must have had a special moment after writing this one. How rewarding! Wit Luff, - Bill
hugs
Fee
Cheers,
Dan