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Open Poetry #41
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the unseen questions
| Open Poetry #41 |
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the unseen questions |
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Ratleader
since 2003-01-23
Posts 7026Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass 
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the unseen questions the falling of the house-dust touches me, I feel it but I do not see; could I but hold away its brownian tracery, its fall, and know instead a memory of sunlight or the texture of a tangerine, the sound of grass merged with a scent of inland gulls, their circling pause just at the coming of the rain, a momentary walk along the hill, hair lank in the gloom? and would I love the flowers while they bloom, the morning glorys and the dark jasmine? could I even now, the lace of time that yields so slow, might there still somewhere in me be breath and time to live, not wholly circumscribed in words, to reach somehow the window, fingers gliding smooth, to touch the glass and feel the songs of birds? ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸ ¸¸ºº> ~~~(¸¸ER¸¸ºº> ______________Ratleader______________ |
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| © Copyright 2007 Ed Ratledge - All Rights Reserved | |||
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Not sure if I understood all of this, but I could relate to what I thought it said. I, too, wonder if I am wasting a lot of life being an observer and sometimes translator/reporter...sometimes I just miss dancing. Nicely done Ed. |
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Gentle Spirit Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989 |
could I even now, the lace of time that yields so slow, might there still somewhere in me be breath and time Wonderful lines Ed. It has been too long since I have had the pleasure of reading you m'friend. Nicely done. |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
DearestDearestEd~ 'and know instead a memory of sunlight or the texture of a tangerine' and- 'might there still somewhere in me be breath and time to live, not wholly circumscribed in words, to reach somehow the window, fingers gliding smooth, to touch the glass' Seems to me to be some very tender moments in time ... remembered somewhat with a wistful sadness~ for what might have been~ BIG *HUGLETS* for you~  ~*Marge*~ ~*The sound of a kiss is not as strong as that of a cannon, but it's echo endures much longer*~ Email - [email protected] |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
Waiting here, waiting here to breathe, to touch, to hold. But all is gone as dust drifts down upon an empty room. Nan (Pilgrim variety) |
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TomMark Member Elite
since 2007-07-27
Posts 2133LA,CA |
and the invisible answers the echo of long lost bird' song falling off with the neglected house-dust in far corner of memory. beautiful poem. beautiful!! Tomtoo |
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Ratleader
since 2003-01-23
Posts 7026Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass |
This one started out as a way of expressing something I was feeling, that my sensitivity as a poet was turning dull, that I was "going blind" poetically....and as a way of assuring myself that I still "have it" if I'll find the reserves to stand up and walk to the window of my soul. Hopefully that will turn out to be true, because it's exactly what I'm doing now. ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸ ¸¸ºº> ~~~(¸¸ER¸¸ºº> |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Dear Ed...You would not been able to write this poem if you could not. You have answered your own question, me thinks. |
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miscellanea Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060OH |
I totally agree with Martie, Ed! Stunning write! I most often read poetry aloud. This is simply stunning, RatL. I'm so glad to see you writing again. misC |
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secondhanddreampoet Member Ascendant
since 2006-11-07
Posts 6394a 'Universalist' ! |
As a scientist, I can’t help but be attracted to the line containing ‘brownian tracery!’ I am also particularly fond of imagery such as: “the sound of grass merged with a scent of inland gulls”; “the lace of time”; AND, especially the ending!: “to live, not wholly circumscribed in words, to reach somehow the window, fingers gliding smooth, to touch the glass and feel the songs of birds?” Serious, sustained applause for this excellent ‘write’! |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
quote: Wonderful lines!! Enjoyed this very much. Love, Margherita |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan |
. . . ………….. the unseen questions the falling of the house-dust I feel it but do not see; could I but hold away its brownian tracery, its fall, and know instead a memory of sunlight or the texture of a tangerine, the sound of grass merged with a scent of inland gulls, their circling pause just at the coming of the rain, a momentary walk along the hill, hair lank in the gloom? and would I love the flowers while they bloom, the morning glories and the dark jasmine? could I even now, the lace of time that yields so slow, might there still somewhere be breath and time to live, not wholly circumscribed in words, to reach somehow the window, fingers gliding smooth, to touch the glass and feel the songs of birds? ……… Good Ed John P.S. As has no moment. Invisible present, still beside. Sorrow and joy. The calm that comes from glad return forgotten to mind. Or scene its essence, detail lost, unspoken in its beauty. Not breathing but breathing the silent understanding of breath. Symphonies of feelings. One must think in tones, shades, great and soft gentle sweeps. An ebb and rise of tides. The slow and rapid rhythms learned in turning from words, obsequious courtiers offering imperfect keys. |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
I think half the joy of sensing these things is that we use words to shjare the emotion with others and you do that so very well. Always do more than is required of you George Patton |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
Sometimes I dream of how nice it would be to just sit and observe - whatever the happenstance... But I have this irristable urge to find a pen... I wonder how many scenes/slides in life I missed while looking for a pen. dale |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
could I even now, the lace of time that yields so slow, might there still somewhere in me be breath and time to live, not wholly circumscribed in words, to reach somehow the window, fingers gliding smooth, to touch the glass and feel the songs of birds? Your words amaze me... both in the poem and in your response. For such gripping clarity to be written by one fearing his own poetic blindness is more than incredible... it's his answer flowing from his own pen. Keep walking to that window, my friend... or should the day come when your legs won't carry you, give a shout... I'll take you there. Stunning work!! |
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