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Open Poetry #28
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Cpat Hair
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793


0 posted 2003-09-11 02:36 PM





The moon is on the wane again
And all that which it pulled towards it,
Hearts blood and tide
Now recede
As if in rest
Sated by the machinations of nights
Lit in dim
I watched the changes then
In you and me
Salve covered eyes no longer burned
From staring into too bright the blaze
Who would show me where the tides rise
Is born….
If it were not the souls edge
Then indeed I am lost
To paint its form

………………………………..

If the pull of tides begin here
At the edge of moon, that in stately cold face
Graces evenings mourning clothed stage,
Then it is not the sweep of wave
Or the pull of woman
That drags me into currents
Undertowed by thoughts of age passing
Too quickly toward an infirm walk on
Shifting
Grains of left over stars

It is the cold
Of breathless
Expire
---------------------------------

Here
An apogee of cresting rush
Brings the sounds of gnashed granite teeth
That bite hard the sea and spit out
A foaming lather of boil
Laced with remnant stars
And no matter where
It all begins
It is here… on strand edge
It ends

Uncovered again
When the passing phase
Forgets a crumble of stone
To return in calm

sanity

© Copyright 2003 Cpat Hair - All Rights Reserved
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
1 posted 2003-09-11 02:40 PM


That bite hard the sea and spit out
A foaming lather of boil
Laced with remnant stars
And no matter where
It all begins
It is here… on strand edge
It ends

~*~

I've seen this foam...
and the dying of stars...

an excellent writing,
placed carefully in the library...

Greeneyes
Deputy Moderator 50 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-09-09
Posts 9903
In Your Poetic Mind
2 posted 2003-09-11 02:52 PM


Who would show me where the tides rise""

I just feel like saying "take me there"


If it were not the souls edge
Then indeed I am lost
To paint its form""


I am most in awe of this stanza....


If the pull of tides begin here
At the edge of moon, that in stately cold face
Graces evenings mourning clothed stage,
Then it is not the sweep of wave
Or the pull of woman
That drags me into currents""


leaving the 'mystery' open


I say it again, but this is stunning and so amazingly penned....
you take emotion, and pull from the reader.....I keep your work, just so I can go back and read again...thats what it does to me, and for me... hugsssss for another talented write!

~~~~~

Lauren~

The way you move me
I walk with your shadow
With your silhouette
Leave the light on
It always comes
Back to you

Larry C
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286
United States
3 posted 2003-09-11 04:58 PM


Ron,
I love a write of nature that brings me to thoughts of relationships. Excellent write.

If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.

Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113
Canada eh.
4 posted 2003-09-11 05:04 PM


Ron, you have a way...
of reaching in and grabbing hold..
not letting go..
until the words sink in..
and once again
I sigh.

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

5 posted 2003-09-11 05:17 PM


Sanity Shmanity. This is delicious lunacy.

You DO manage to couple grace with power.

(I happen to find that intriguing, if not irresistible.)

Now can we talk about the sun? (and yes, I've recently become aware of its existance.)

Loved this, Cap.

Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

6 posted 2003-09-11 08:27 PM


The moon is on the wane again
And all that which it pulled towards it,
Hearts blood and tide
Now recede
As if in rest
Sated by the machinations of nights
Lit in dim
I watched the changes then
In you and me
Salve covered eyes no longer burned
From staring into too bright the blaze
Who would show me where the tides rise
Is born.
If it were not the souls edge
Then indeed I am lost
To paint its form

..........

If the pull of tides begin here
At the edge of moon, that in stately cold face
Graces evenings mourning clothed stage,
Then it is not the sweep of wave
Or the pull of woman
That drags me into currents
Undertowed by thoughts of age passing
Too quickly toward an infirm walk on
Shifting
Grains of left over stars


============================

stunned stupid and quite contentedly so...
(thank you)

"When your own emptiness is all thats gettin thru
there comes a point when youre not sure why youre still talking
I passed that point long ago"


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