Where is the poem welling up within,
coming to a boil and ready to be released
as a stream of invisible steam
whining into oblivion?
It whimpers now
and dies within her breast,
heavy with the burden of so many things
left unsaid, left lingering in the lost places.
There are no words; only fizzled dreams
and reflections of remembered sorrows
stirred. Shaken, she is taken
by the storm of memory.
Swept up and spat out
by whale of a wind, she awakens to familiar faces,
is relieved by ordinary company yet missing
strange land of dreams.
She's lost the song, hop-skip
through treachery. She misses the smiles
of wounded companions who marched fearlessly
never knowing all they had in not having.
She lies prostrate in green haze, poisoned by
cackle of reality. She peers into crystal ball soul,
these fragments of whole, but yellow brick
morphs to poppy field and again
Wonderful rhythm that accompanies so much meaning, until those meaningful last lines. Great visuals. There are so many lines that I like here...
"She lies prostrate in green haze, poisoned by
cackle of reality";
"She's lost the song, hop-skip
through treachery";
"It whimpers now
and dies within her breast"
and that "crystal ball soul" is so evocative and sounds beautiful.
Axilea
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on April 29, 2011
Wonderful writing sweet lady...glad to see you back writing...I have missed you ...sighhh...stay safe and well...Hugss
She lies in prostrate in green haze, poisoned by
cackle of reality. She peers into crystal ball soul,
these fragments of whole, but yellow brick
morphs to poppy field and again
Your powerful images serve to emphasize the theme that you have presented via your verses here, Dawn. Well done. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes,
No one writes poetry like you...
Your second stanza is my favorite. I have felt this way for the past several months...poetry doesn't come when burdened by so many other things.
Cryssa
Not only searching, Dawn, but mining deep,
this poem seeps into me and i'm much the better
for it.
Third stanza is perfection: thought, word
choice, phrasing.
Yes!
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"She lies prostrate in green haze, poisoned by
cackle of reality";
"She's lost the song, hop-skip
through treachery";
"It whimpers now
and dies within her breast"
and that "crystal ball soul" is so evocative and sounds beautiful.
Axilea
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Texas, Karen Lynn. :D
cackle of reality. She peers into crystal ball soul,
these fragments of whole, but yellow brick
morphs to poppy field and again
Your powerful images serve to emphasize the theme that you have presented via your verses here, Dawn. Well done. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes,
Regis
Your second stanza is my favorite. I have felt this way for the past several months...poetry doesn't come when burdened by so many other things.
Cryssa
this poem seeps into me and i'm much the better
for it.
Third stanza is perfection: thought, word
choice, phrasing.
Yes!
John