My mind’s eye is suspended
like a web from a high ceiling
in an old shop of like antiques
Watching for all that comes in
Waiting for the perfect moment
Poised to assault the adjective
Such as poetic prey entangled
They are gems that radiate out
and then give life to a dream
They are precious treasures
that I wrap away in time vaults
to sustain me in my muse
Sustenance for a hungry heart
They are given birth in lines
scattered about the parchment
leaving the warm womb of love
leading their own little lives
to grow and build their webs
to capture the eyes of others
Dream inspiring dream
Thought inspiring thought
Fantasy inspiring fantasy
Weaving webs of existence
exposed to the harsh elements
A sampling of life’s inconsistencies
A legacy in the blowing wind
thanks for the remark..I read your poem..A Legacy of words..and it really took me to a different world where nothing matters except expresion..seems u have given words to all those wordless feelings..
Somewhere in my head I have the phrase "arsenal of words". That little phrase seems to fit exactly with what one does as a poet. This is an even truer "statement", your poem, ... it is so true and so beautifully conveyed as a gift in our own little legacy, a legacy of words. Thank you for the gift!
Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader)
Reviewed on October 24, 2003
This is a different write for you Amor, you are equally effective in this beautiful poetry as your usual romance genre. Perfection once again.
Talk about wind???
"A sampling of life’s inconsistencies
A legacy in the blowing wind" is a mind"blower"
this poem is beautiful in every way
Reviewed by T. Emilie Dybevik (Reader)
Reviewed on October 23, 2003
"Sustenance for a hungry heart
They are given birth in lines
scattered about the parchment"---Amor---This is SO true. I have this image every day. Poetry is like a puzzle.....you have the words---it's just putting them in the right places. Loved this view :)
Ah such is the life of a poet. Amor, you have captured the essence of our existence so well. Sometimes when I go back and read my old "treasures" I have to laugh at myself. And then other times I cry remembering how sadly I felt when I wrote those words. It is a bad cry, because up until that point I had forgotten how horrible I felt.
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I can certainly relate to the imagery that words evoke in your poem, speaking to the mind and to the senses.
Beautiful definitions of this multifaceted world.
Axilea
"A sampling of life’s inconsistencies
A legacy in the blowing wind" is a mind"blower"
this poem is beautiful in every way
They are given birth in lines
scattered about the parchment"---Amor---This is SO true. I have this image every day. Poetry is like a puzzle.....you have the words---it's just putting them in the right places. Loved this view :)
Thank You,
Teresa Emilie
~Chrissie
A masterpiece of words well penned!!
Love Tinka
Jenni
~ Sara
love the last line....it was so ironic!
Very well done Amor
very well indeed
pax
A