I hear you in spring
Whispering in the silence
Of memories...
Words linger, inviting me
To listen, to breathe the stillness
I hear you in summer, too, when the sun showers sky with color at end of day. And now in autumn I feel your memory in the crisp air, your touch in falling leaves. Winter will come and you will be there, too... in the chill of morning and the crackling of warming fires. But it is in spring, that season of beginnings, when your whisper calls me, sometimes hauntingly so... and I listen to every word. I think of that April morning, no time for good-bye or that last 'I love you'. Perhaps there was not meant to be one for you have not truly gone, have you? You remain here in all my seasons, all my ordinary days, but in spring I breathe more deeply of the stillness, of time, of you, because I remember... I remember that other spring when I thought I would never breathe again..
My goodness! You are a breath of fresh air. I took every single word into my lungs and held it there. "when your whisper calls me, sometimes hauntingly so... and I listen to every word" A chill went up my spine when I read that! Absolutely beautiful! My pen bows to you:)
Myrna,
this is beautifully rendered with a gentle haunting voice, truly good.
John
Reviewed by Stan Grimes (Reader)
Reviewed on October 31, 2008
Myrna, you are truly a poet after my heart. Your words fit together so well and tell a story of passionate for existence. You are unique and a marvelous poet.
"I think of that April morning, no time for good-bye or that last 'I love you'. Perhaps there was not meant to be one for you have not truly gone, have you?"
For me is was a late June morning but the memories and awareness are the same.
As far as getting tired of this new form of yours, absolutely not.
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This book is a limited edition, and copies are hand numbered. It will NOT be available through Amazon or other distributors. You must purchase it directly from the author or from this site. It is hard-back (not the spiral bind seen
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,
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hugs
fee
Peace,
Dan
this is beautifully rendered with a gentle haunting voice, truly good.
John
"I think of that April morning, no time for good-bye or that last 'I love you'. Perhaps there was not meant to be one for you have not truly gone, have you?"
For me is was a late June morning but the memories and awareness are the same.
As far as getting tired of this new form of yours, absolutely not.
Hugs,
Marcia