Another tankabun.. I have grown quite enamored with the form..
Sentences
Midnight stars whisper
Upon velvet, slipping into dreams
And their fading sighs
Trail shadows of sentences
Being written across sky
I hear the words tumbling softly, one onto the next, and feel each nuance, each subtle inflection. The ink of intimacy flows so sweetly, and I, lost in its rhythm, reach for my pen of curiosity. Sentences spill forth, one, then two... and I forget to breathe as that last whisper slips away leaving the sky to silence.
The beauty in your poetry is forever a reward for knowing you. This work is Myrna at her best, and I know that it is truth in words.
Good to review your 'breathing," once again. - Luff, - Bill
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,
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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The beauty in your poetry is forever a reward for knowing you. This work is Myrna at her best, and I know that it is truth in words.
Good to review your 'breathing," once again. - Luff, - Bill
John
you do it. Love the way you use your words: ink of intimacy...
pen of curiosity. -gene.
Cheers,
Dan