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Open Poetry #50
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Woven Dreams and Sand Paintings
| Open Poetry #50 |
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Woven Dreams and Sand Paintings |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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Bring me your ocean dreams with moonlight's road paved in waves and timeless sand, pathways to some other world. When storms ride hard to keep Valkyries' pace, night becomes a home; sand holds the key, there is no mystery in water or in heat, winds rush before the building storms. Send me your Pacific thoughts of freedom's gentle kiss that I may wrap them as a shell around me in the wind. I remember roads to Arizona, map of air blistered, then blustered, eating skin with red rock's grit. Sweat salt encrusted shirts, broken axle roads, paths of ancient prayer draw me to Chaco memories; sand holds the key in power paintings gently poured in song, then blown away before the endless storms. Today I stare into buildings' blasted ruins laid out in patterns matching Sun and Moon so simplistically it seems as if they are broken dreams of my own childhood, left behind for me to fix when time returns to clarity; I know exactly where doors and missing walls belong. Sand holds the key. I can see the dances that brought clouds to life just as I see you stand before me, though transparent without shadows, reaching for my hand. Yes, sand holds the key. Here air is clear, the way is filled with layers taken again and again by time, dropped like separate footprints that have walked across the sky. Sand holds the key, making fluid real and keenly woven in moan of wind that takes it, we become travelers' touch. And underneath a flowing sky, hum of old words leaking into every sunset, whispering to snow along ridges on mountains of the gods, sand holds the key unmoved life struggles free in valley cauldrons far below. Only time holds the sea still memories dissolved in fluid folds, while sand holds the key blown in waves from you to me, wedged into time no sandstone lasts against a current's conduit of silt and slide alive from winter's storm and rage, trudged on feet across the pass, taking without thought dreams of bones, broken buildings like twigs tossed and no longer home. Where then is the path of time, of moon across the sea, sailing on in fluid memory? Sand holds the key. Soul's reality, crystal sparks as leaping stones, as thoughts flow through the world and shimmer back from you to me. And to what purpose blown about? Flowing in and out through spinning loops, until in time within fires of lives rebuilt we draw essential sustenance simmered in emotion's broth, grit of our existence relaxed and no longer left to chance. Sand holds the key unlocking every boundary, releasing burdens we've acquired over time, until in thoughts and dreams our energies are at last unleashed as souls linked and intertwined, and free to dance. I remember roads to Arizona, now fastened to my maps in different ways, as if caught and tangled tumbleweeds straining to escape at last blown free from chain link and barbed wire laced across their destiny; to get there through doors of time, after sailing moonlight's highways in the sea, it has always been sand that holds the key. ©2017 by icebox |
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| © Copyright 2017 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
Oh my, this is such a beautiful piece of poetry. I don't know your inspiration but I felt a sense of going home. And how the landscape of our life changes over time and yet so much remains the same. The view from your minds eye is both rugged and breathtaking. The sand and sea are a gentle force that keeps a timely rhythm. You've stirred my poetic heart in the best way. Truly my pleasure to read... |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Ah, Icebox, you delved into your sometimes heartbreaking past, mixed with your undying thoughts of peace and the moon’s voyage above us. I relate to much of this, but when I write mine I am never as easy with the flow of the poem as are you. You are a master of sweet thoughts interspaced with “red rock's grit.” I thoroughly enjoyed this write. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
Thank you both for the kind gift of your time. This is an evolved piece grown over many years. Much of the thought of it I owe to Martie. |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Very, very beautiful, Charlie - the sands of time, long since escaped from a million hour glasses to blow wild and free wherever it will to create its own sand paintings and opening itself up to be interpreted into words of wonder as you have done here. You are a wordsmith and a painter of dreams and sand paintings as none other. I am so glad you birthed all of this and shared your interpretation with us. I am sorry for your pain and happy for your joy. |
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