Embryonic equinox...womb boom box at planetary decibals...

s

A season of emotions revealed.

Ron

I always seem to be waiting on something, too. Hugs,
Sheila

At times the muse hibernates within, waiting for that fuel, that tiny spark of insight we know we have somewhere inside, to blossom, to awaken. I feel this one, Jude.

... so do I, Kartero, so do I! :)) But your warm words of persistent watchfulness and careful observation are nurturing in themselves, fanning into flame that rejuvenating daybreak whose kindling is so awaited and eagerly anticipated by all those who creatively toil through life's current endless twilight. And Amber's creative response is a beautiful adjunct to this sense of community and participation in the shared task - like Sage's We Built This City, too, recently. We live in times of tension: of the "now" but also the "not yet", as Axilea also highlights. Hopefully, talking the talk and walking the walk hastens it all along...

... I'm also bowled over because your impressionist images resonate soundly with the cover artwork of my new magazine I keep going on about: so much so it's like you've managed a sneak peak! I hope that's good omen that all the creative endeavours/energies I'm ploughing into it will somehow give it wings! :)) xx

I can understand the feeling of some revelation that is so near, almost palpable, but not quite there. Senses are alert, the mind is open and we are waiting... Moving, precise and beautiful.

Axilea

Awesome poem!
The light can change suddenly and dramatically, the wind can pick up, moving our spirits as it moves nature.
Blessings,
Christine

Very good poem, Jude

Quite a thought provoking piece, my friend.

And LOL at Matlack!

as always, your work inspires!!

Light sometimes comes unexpectedly, Jude,
almost it would seem out of nowhere,
a burgeoning we can't account for after
a dark and cold spell;
the time when it no longer comes is...

This goes far, one of those long ways
that stay within.

John

for everything there is a season, as the song goes. do dead branches not have to be pruned for new and fresh ones to grow? perhaps it is in this pruning process, where we lose our faith, don't see the forest for the trees; but indeed, the seasons do arrive, year after year. some years certainly do seem longer than others. i like this poem a lot. really good to see you again and i hope everything is going well for you these days. be good.

First we got Mr. Ed talking to the animals, now we got you, Bob, talking to the leaves...you two must do similar drugs...;-)ed

Your vivid imagery serves as a great "back light" to the theme and the meaning that you express through your verses here, Jude. I think you meant to write "branches" in the first verse of the fourth stanza. Thank you for sharing your gift. Love and peace to you,

Regis

inspiring thoughts of changes that flow to natures on going cycles

Jude I feel as though I could use this poem to comment again on your inspirational poetry, you make my heart soar to heights never felt before with your amazing connection to life and Earth.



Much Peace light and love,

Amber







Twilight Into Dawn (Response to Jude's Poem Blossoming Color)

by Amber V Moonstone

Saturday, November 08, 2008


Twilight Into Dawn


The faint light of morning



Captured my heart



Sending peaceful rejuvenating prisms



Of Natural rainbows.







Twilight had left me staring,



Into the abyss of unending doubts.



Times where, sleep,



Is the only cure for loneliness.







The music of the night,



Brings purple haze



Into dreams laced with



Sultry colors unfolding,



Melodies of lover’s chords.







Let the color of dawn,



Sweep you into the pathway



Of dreamy drops of dew



That stimulate colorful



Memories of love.

cultivation of wonderment is key, jude; daybreak shall follow...
carolyn

The seeds must be planted even if we are sure that they won't grow. Once planted, even a seed we know to be infertile has a chance, though slim it might be, to grow into what it was intended to become as the will to be can be stronger than we could ever imagine. So it is with life, we keep pitching chum hoping that one day we will get a bite from the big fish. Excellent metaphor, Jude; I truly enjoyed the read.
Take care,
Sherry

I really admire this creative piece of work, Jude. To wish for spring is one thing, but to diligently "involve" yourself in its birthing is quite another. Congratulations of a well thought out poem, my friend.

Nice images.....

Chip Bergeron