Another tankabun reflecting my journey of seasons..
Hands
Within autumn's hands
Rests a time traveler
A maple drifter
Left behind by November wind
Rushing to its next season
I can almost feel it within my own hands, this last trembling leaf. As I stand beneath its lofty perch I hear it whisper in the wind, brittle breath against branch. I imagine its edges curled, protecting heart and soul. And I wonder why it has not let go, why it remains after all its companions have gone. I reach to touch, wishing that I could grant it freedom, freedom to drift away. But my hand slows... stops... and I cradle it, this time traveler. It would sadden me too much to hear it leave....
The written beauty of your poetry FORGETS that sight is minimal, and imagination, everything!
It is a pleasure and a blessing to read such inspired words and the picture they paint for us.
This is EXCELLENT! I closed my eyes after I read it and took it all in. I will check more of your work. If you'd like, I have my on blog at:pegspoets.blogspot.com Please feel free to add your work to my site, I have been scowering for some good writers:)
Take care, I'm going to check out something else of yours!
NOW AVAILABLE!
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
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
I very much like this poetic piece Myrna...
John
Carole~
Be always safe,
Karen
hugs
fee
A beautiful assault on my senses, tender and inspiring.
John
The written beauty of your poetry FORGETS that sight is minimal, and imagination, everything!
It is a pleasure and a blessing to read such inspired words and the picture they paint for us.
- Bill
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Take care, I'm going to check out something else of yours!
Alya
Cheers,
Dan
Such a visual and rather sad poem, beautifully written. The end of autumn certainly is a sad thing.
Mary