Love letters from
Your inner sea -
Salt and floating on the surface -
The memory of tears
Produces a smile, now sweet,
Where the shimmering coat
Reaches that line
You call the horizon.
For me, it is lifted by the sky:
A secret path behind the invisible
Opens.
Time doesn’t matter,
(It’s a game we no longer play)
Only those whispers
Of fresh water
And your words
Finally capitalized
In my inner sea.
The transformation of love from one to the other is as the sea you speak of...from within the heart where endless waves of thoughts that grasp the mind and captivate the very essence of love...from one sea into the other the final blending of thought is found...
There you go, reminding me of magic beans-- personal ones that grow much larger and fantastically when cast at the right time--the right place-- and watered by the right stuff. From such stalks, grow poems like this. Healing. --Charlie
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Have you been published? You should be...!
Rick A.
Your poems always have a way of coming together in the end with a thought-provoking idea or thought...
Cryssa
nice work Axilea...
Art Sun...
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Opens."
Lovely writing, Axilea.
(It’s a game we no longer play)"
I love that line.
hugs
Fee
Love it..
MY kind of poetryQ
Than kyou Axilea
Blessings,
Vesna
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Time doesn’t matter,
(It’s a game we no longer play)
- David
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D