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serenity blaze
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since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738


0 posted 2005-08-16 03:24 AM


Delicate

the fingering

of ivories in singling

yellowed by the sting of me

yearning to be heard

I serve

a master of the motioning

swaying introconstancy

in hint of what flies following:

feathers, fluttering the pain--

watch me drop the ash and breathe

velvet

cushioning

my knees

padded by the martyrs' flesh

as reasonings compose the rests

and silence is a symphony

screaming difference.


Pump the fallow dirt to dust

bellowed by the toes of lust

the note that scholars scorn

is thus -

displaced in echoes of my mind.

Nettles bite my fingertips

and only puff of callouses

ink notation:

"H" and "I"...


a taste
   of swallowing

the rhyme.



© Copyright 2005 serenity blaze - All Rights Reserved
Paul Wilson
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1 posted 2005-08-16 05:24 AM


Karen...I don't know but too this coon ass
it sounds like you are starting your Spring cleaning way too early, or you can't sleep so you are cleaning house listening too some real good music...Paul
                              
Bumfuzelled that's what I am >>>..<<<
                                
                              

~~To share my poems with you is to share my heart with you~~
Paul

passing shadows
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since 1999-08-26
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displaced
2 posted 2005-08-16 06:02 AM


what an ending to a very deep write!
loved this!

Sunshine
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Listening to every heart
3 posted 2005-08-16 08:51 AM


feathers, fluttering the pain--

watch me drop the ash and breathe

velvet

cushioning

my knees

~*~

Understood every single note...
even after the fade away...

Nightshade
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since 2001-08-31
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just out of reach
4 posted 2005-08-16 09:15 AM


and silence is a symphony

screaming difference.

nodding in understand to this quietly shouting composition ~Chrislane~

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
~Carl Sandburg

LeeJ
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since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296

5 posted 2005-08-16 09:16 AM


tried so hard to highlight a favorite line
and I can't cuz each and everyone is brilliant..

It is poems as such which clench the very soul...loved this

Janet Marie
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since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

6 posted 2005-08-16 11:53 AM


Delicate

the fingering

of ivories in singling

yellowed by the sting of me

yearning to be heard

I serve

a master of the motioning

swaying introconstancy

in hint of what flies following:

feathers, fluttering the pain--

watch me drop the ash and breathe

velvet

cushioning

my knees

padded by the martyrs' flesh

as reasonings compose the rests

and silence is a symphony

screaming difference.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I read this very early this morn when the rest of the house was still asleep and had to restrain myself from bursting outloud in my GLEEEEEEEE and admiration for this awesome offering....

oh girl........  you just flat out rock...

you are a maestro of rhymes divine.

Im not asking for a moment, all I want is time
I want to take this lonely, but Ive no place to be
so baby let me breathe you in and take you into me

Kaoru
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where the wild flowers grow
7 posted 2005-08-16 12:29 PM


I love it! It came together amazingly. Thanks, bebe.
Seymour Tabin
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Tamarac Fla
8 posted 2005-08-16 12:54 PM


serenity,
That sure is some fancy stitching.

littlewing
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since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655
New York
9 posted 2005-08-16 02:25 PM


yellowed by the sting of me

as if what is inside of you would discolor the precious ivory

(wish I had written that line btw)

watch me drop the ash and breathe

velvet


I love that change there, K.
velvet, yesss . . .

then onto the ole kneelers . . .
know them well, myself.

ink notation

nice way to put that . . .

Actually, I saw you there, wanting to play, actually playing, dropping that ash and wiping,
rather blowing it away (carefully), remembering WHEN you LAST played . . .

almost like a why bother?

you know?


iliana
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since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434
USA
10 posted 2005-08-16 03:59 PM


Tabbed this for my library.  Karen, I'll be back later for another read......jojo
Dark Angel
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since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

11 posted 2005-08-16 04:40 PM


You bowl me over everytime...

sei la maestra di poesia ..
you are the master/mistress of poetry

sigh, I love it when you collapse me..do it again!



Mxx


~i want for myself your trembling~

Gentle Spirit
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since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989

12 posted 2005-08-16 04:54 PM


watch me drop the ash and breathe

velvet

cushioning

my knees

padded by the martyrs' flesh

as reasonings compose the rests

and silence is a symphony

screaming difference.


mmmm K, you are the maestro of words m'friend....

and sometimes, I welcome a silent symphony...
um...maybe that don't make sense?  

but, yes....
the silence...
it is welcome sometimes...



yesterday is gone
tomorrow doesn't exist

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

13 posted 2005-08-16 05:17 PM


I appreciate it folks, but I realize this is pretty much a rehash of a theme I've hit on several times already.

Which made me realize when I go flipping through those pages in my notebooks, I need to mark the ones I've already used.

But thanks for so generously overlooking my redundancies. I do love this place.


iliana
Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434
USA
14 posted 2005-08-16 05:26 PM


OK, Colorful One, I am baffled, and yet I'm not.  

"a master of the motioning

swaying introconstancy

in hint of what flies following:

feathers, fluttering the pain--

watch me drop the ash and breathe"

When I read this the fourth time, an image of a cigarette, flipping ashes that looked like feathers as they dropped .... and then watch me drop the ash and BREATHE....only a smoker would understand...that introconstancy.  That is, if I have defined your new word correctly.  Am I on the right track????

Anyhow, whether I get all of the message here or not, I love dissecting your poetry and looking for the meanings.  You are the master of disguise!   ....jojo


serenity blaze
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since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

15 posted 2005-08-16 05:27 PM


jeez, lady, check yer messages will ya?


Ringo
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Saluting with misty eyes
16 posted 2005-08-16 06:57 PM


You know, Karen... many times my mind is so inadequate as to understand what is happening in your mind and in your writes... just reading them makes me feel those inadequacies, and makes me pray for more wisdom and insight that I can fully appreciate your thoughts.
Even with my mind being as llimited as it is, you never cease to absolutely blow me away... and make consider quitting this entire game.

http://www.mysticwicks.com
  (try the after dark section)

littlewing
Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655
New York
17 posted 2005-08-17 09:21 AM


You, M'Lady never appear redundant.
How dare you.  *grin*

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

18 posted 2005-08-17 10:59 AM


ahem.... you were expecting me, right?   yaya

poems are like roses..each a beauty in its own right...
when a poet writes many of a similar theme, the poems become a bouquet...

think of 2 dozen roses in a vase..
are they redundant?

when a topic is written of more than once--written this brilliantly...theres no redundancy...only moth gleeeeeeeeee.  


hey... I had to say something....

all I write about now is creek rocks.. lmao   

Im not asking for a moment, all I want is time
I want to take this lonely, but Ive no place to be
so baby let me breathe you in and take you into me

Martie
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since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
19 posted 2005-08-17 11:05 AM


Karen

"Delicate

the fingering

of ivories in singling

yellowed by the sting of me"

I have played that same song many times!  

yearning to be heard


miscellanea
Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060
OH
20 posted 2005-08-17 11:28 AM


serenity,

  Your title pulled me in.   Inside of me there is music/expression to come out, but many times lies dormant.  Sometimes the force is great and I find my fingers leading a melody in the dark-the tune evoked solely by an emotion.  You write poetically of evokings...  Most of the time, I don't even know from where the emotions stem, but apparently they're there!   The funny thing is that WHEN I WANT to write music, the silence becomes unbearable,

         "as reasonings compose the rests"

but I trudge on; the composition, a flop.  (I've been trying for a month and a half to hear the  ONE line that will finish the last piece I began.  Dream it to me, will ya?

Take care, serenity.  It is good to be able to stop and visit for a moment.  Time is on my side today.  Tomorrow?  Shall we write the rests?

Excellent feel to this...

               miscellanea

vandana
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21 posted 2005-08-17 05:05 PM


good read
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