Splendid poetic penning

Best wishes

Axilea,
Such a feeling of tranquility in your words. Soothing, yet adventurous. Like many of our dreams can be. I love the title of this piece, too. Happy Easter:)
Sheila

How well you capture the moments. No wonder you have had so many commont on your poetry. It's simply inspirational.

Well done
Miller

Your style of writing my friend, behooves me
I am stunned by the soft grace of your pen, as your words form...
A glass harmonica is fragile
and your poem is magical and soft-feeling, as read and written!
Loved it - goes into my Axilea, folder to read over...

WRITE ON!
Warmest Blessings of Peace, Love and Hugs, Warrior Purple Lady SHEExooo

This has the hazy quality of a dream, yet the hint of the clear perceptions and clarity that come through those same dreams

Cryssa

This has a very soft-fuzzy quality to it that somehow contrasts with the title.

The title conjures up something clear, vibrant, magical and somehow solid, though other-worldly.

But in the end it all comes together-- it's not the tool itself, but the music made by it--intangible, pervasive, elegant, and yet wistful.

Perhaps the reciever of the poem was able to catch the melody and tuck it away in a box, to be revisited each time the box is opened. --Charlie

Excellent and very precious.

Interestingly expressed thoughts Axilea...dreams can keep one within that bubble of security and yet when one visualizes the encounters within and then find questions of how and why as though a realty of a world that can make for the most mystical of events....there is that within your lines of thought, a place where one can hide, find, or just enjoy the presence of an escape...

nice work...

Art Sun....

Axilea, you have written this so beautifully...so softly... from the title to your very last line. I think this is my new favorite of yours...but then, there are so many. Another one for my library.

Axilea - Enjoyed your Glass Harmonica (Love the title),its dream images
and metaphors, especially:

a hyphen
between your absence
and my presence.

and

Finger rubbed
on a crystallophone:
notes from a rare instrument,
titillating reverie
and tinkling smiles…

- David

Gripped my heart and soul from the beginning, Axilea M. The title, exquisite, the progression, inevitable, the ending? -maybe semi-divine?- In completion, both sorrowful and hopeful, with a melancholy I understand.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen

shared dreams have their own special music even when the melody is unaccompanied ...

Thank you, Axilea, for allowing me to participate in this
so personal and tastefully rendered dream, for a brief moment,
to lose myself in the color, sound, and feel manifested in the
beauty and skill in which you craft this most intriguing work
of art. A marvelous title. -gene.

great title Axilea,blurring the senses and thoughs in a dream state,
nicely done,
stan

Uniquely beautiful and inspiring.

Ron

Axilea as always you amaze and awe me with the strength and beauty of your poetry. This one is no exception...it takes the reader for a wonderful look into your dreams and the images blossom like fireworks of summer flowers.

Fee

I could hear music in the background as I read your sensitive and well written poetry!
Nicely done, my friend.
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"

This is soft, delicate and very intriguing. I love the tone you set with your first two lines. I have been working on a poem about consciously dreaming - consciously inviting someone in. So, it's especially poignant for me to discover this beautiful composition here this morning. I find this to be one of your more "accessible" poems and it is my favorite of yours to date.

Axilea,

Glass harmonica - such a fragile thing! Such a beautiful image you pen - undone by the wonder of you. Well done!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!!! VERY BEAUTIFUL POEM!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Axilea,
This has the mood of music heard in another room, one of my favourite sensations, a mood that blends realities, projections, separations and desires and above all sensuality, the drops of oil, the "Finger rubbed"; full of dark passions in the world of half-dream and waking.
John