It would be easy to let silence grow thicker and thicker
a saddle blanket on a tired horse
it would be easy to give up the race
of thoughts and words and past and present
done, undone, told, untold, hesitation and presence --
translucid, sticky spider web
filigree testimony of fragile attempts
and corrosive urges to be spun together
and make sense, glows in the early morning
to be born under the feeble ray of sun;
the sum of who we are and even more --
time to reconnect
she looks at all the worlds
within - without
the disconnected looks on faces
wax museums of approved happiness
and she remembers that there are bridges
lacking, to be built with hope, love and skill –
those worlds seemingly protected by certainty,
the offspring of fear.
She dreams of building the bridge
and beyond --
letting her words swing the structure
and walk in freedom.
the first two lines and the last stanza leave a very deep impression on me, Axilea. I love the concreteness of them and the layers of meaning and depth they articulate. Your thoughts here are gourmet, thank you. xx
Bridges of words......brought forth with feeling and thought...and building that bridge, is what I hope allows me to cross to the future, to that part of my life that is yet to be lived...but always being mindful of the "now." Beautiful writing, Axilea...you always amze me with your artistry.
I like it when you make me think, Axilea.
An I think I have a few bridges yet to cross
to fulfill the me of me. Thank you for this
moving and provocative poem. -gene.
Bridges made with good words, bridges made with bad words and man's capability to choose one of them, and as we said "...worlds seemingly protected by certainty..." and the never ending life of hope.
Axilea as always your rare postings are always a treasure to read and think about. This one is no exception...it is unique and farsighted. well done.
fee
...and where does this fine poetry go? To the heart, Axilea, and to the brain as brain and heart are one, here; how subtly you meld thought and feeling. This warms and satisfies me immensely.
Wonderful imagery and poem! I once went to a wax museum in NJ and as a child it all looked so real I thought the wax people were alive, it was eerie.
Blessings,
Christine
I love the thought of bridges being made with words-- great, steal cords of swagging-taut lines-- beams of iron. I also love the irony within the juxtaposition of cobwebs with bridges-- so seemingly fragile, and yet amazingly strong, and they look and act as bridges as well.
Spinning word bridges, then. What a lovely concept; strong; feminine; and full of imagination and beauty. --Charlie
Building that bridge is what will allow you to get across to the other side of your valuable life, Axilea...there is further exploration in the greenery which to discover truths of what lies under that yet uncovered fertile psyche...I love these lines here
"It would be easy to let silence grow thicker and thicker
a saddle blanket on a tired horse"
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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An I think I have a few bridges yet to cross
to fulfill the me of me. Thank you for this
moving and provocative poem. -gene.
Georg
fee
John
Blessings,
Christine
Spinning word bridges, then. What a lovely concept; strong; feminine; and full of imagination and beauty. --Charlie
"It would be easy to let silence grow thicker and thicker
a saddle blanket on a tired horse"
Good poetry!
Love,
Sage