mineral landscape
open like arms
and freedom endless
dotted with shelters
seashells around her feet
right where her movement and weight are recorded
on the living carpet of sand
there she sat with a book
she sat with questions
like echoes born from white waves
messages that enter the conscience
with the insistence of persisting dreams
dead crab with broken joints
slowly digested by the sea
and ideas painted in words
deconstructed and taken in
by fingers that turn pages
eyes that glow in the evening sun
shivering skin that breathes in
until later
heavy fog falls
oppressing those higher dreams
cushioning the sound of strings
that vibrate in her soul
who would have thought
that a woman on a winter beach
would have to carry on her soft arms
the weight of a sky
ready to fall?
a writer
words given – words taken
she confronts the gravity of darkness
and laden clouds watched
until they break against distant rocks
like mythical war ships
while her spirit
is harbored by a book
Your poetry always creates such fantastic images in my mind...
The insistent thoughts that stream in and invade our dreams...whether or not we want them too...I know those thoughts well! Maybe I will have to write a poem about that now...
Cryssa
Ah yes, her spirit being harbored by a book. Many of us can relate, I'm sure. And to being Atlases. Such crips images, such tenderness and softness, too. This resonates with the warmth of feeling and also with the calm collectedness of keen observation and perception. Such an intelligent balance of tensions is masterful. xx
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on November 3, 2008
You have written a masterpiece here... can't believe anyone would critisize this work, Her Book'. Bravo! Love, Holly
Axilea, your images are superb,the poem wraps around me like a soft blanket on a chilly day at the beach and every word you write is felt as I read the book...exceptional!
I love the way you look at life and people in such an open verse format, words are so easily twisted and turned and can be so powerful as to chane the perspectives of all.
Nice work Axilea...the reflection of thoughts are as those wave you write of...they continue onto the shores and carry those footprints away...even life is not free from each and every word or thought...those visions are the reasons we write and we read...books are more than just words....they are life...
A very thoughtful poem with some excellent images. But then some of the images are a little too enigmatic and poetic, which aren't allowing the poem to raise beyond a personal experience, e.g., "freedom endless
dotted with shelters
seashells around her feet".
Also you have used passive voice at times where one would expect an action, e.g., "deconstructed and taken in
by fingers that turn pages"
and
"while her spirit
is harbored by a book"
The last line could be "while a book harbors her spirit", and do not see the necessity of that line break after "spirit".
I love all those w's! I'm a-wash with them... My favorite image, the living sand, and "seashells" placed just after your line about freedom and shelters. I see (sea?) myself climbing into one of them to read-- a great big mussel shell to shield me from the storm coming--or came? At any rate, I love how you capture and hold a scene, and build a poem around it--merging the metaphor with the drama-- it creates deep atmosphere that saturates the readers' minds. Your writes never disappoint. --Charlie
Axilea,
You make such a connection here with the reader, the poem so centred and grounded, its atmosphere palpable and firm and the imagery perfect for the setting, and that final stanza shifting to another gear as it were brings it all wonderfully home. For me, this is one of your very best poems. Bravo!
John
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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Sheila
Absolutely stunning . . . !!
Best wishes,
Lance
Ron
The insistent thoughts that stream in and invade our dreams...whether or not we want them too...I know those thoughts well! Maybe I will have to write a poem about that now...
Cryssa
while her spirit
is harbored by a book"
the ending analogy really caught my attention ... the first and third verses are configured perfectly ...
Eileen
Safety from the real world to be sure.
Fee
nice...
Art Sun...
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
dotted with shelters
seashells around her feet".
Also you have used passive voice at times where one would expect an action, e.g., "deconstructed and taken in
by fingers that turn pages"
and
"while her spirit
is harbored by a book"
The last line could be "while a book harbors her spirit", and do not see the necessity of that line break after "spirit".
D
and line...
who would have thought
that a woman on a winter beach
would have to carry on her soft arms
the weight of a sky
ready to fall
a writer
perfect alliteration. Perfect poem. -gene.
You make such a connection here with the reader, the poem so centred and grounded, its atmosphere palpable and firm and the imagery perfect for the setting, and that final stanza shifting to another gear as it were brings it all wonderfully home. For me, this is one of your very best poems. Bravo!
John
"laden clouds... break against the distant rocks
like mythical war ships...."
"the weight of a sky
ready to fall?"
(But check line 6. - ?)