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Open Poetry #9
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linda munday
Member
since 2000-06-17
Posts 315
Adelaide, Australia

0 posted 2000-08-31 08:29 PM


~WHISPER ON THE WIND~
Linda Munday

No ears are needed to hear the call
Of the whisper on the wind
On breeze so soft when the moonlight falls
It beckons your name and then,

The inner voice of an open heart
Will respond to the ancient cry
That resides in all who hear the voice
And who claim the silent prize

Like birds that fly on music unseen
An ensemble on the wind
It summons hearts with its patient weep
“Oh, return to me my friend”

“Come hold my heart as I hold yours”
As one now with the voice
A narrow path few choose to follow
It’s our eternal choice






© Copyright 2000 Linda Munday - All Rights Reserved
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
1 posted 2000-08-31 09:45 PM


Linda, so soft, light and touching...well done!
Sudhir Iyer
Member Ascendant
since 2000-04-26
Posts 6943
Mumbai, India : now in Belgium
2 posted 2000-09-01 06:47 AM


Linda, this is beautifully written...

great work...

regards,
sudhir

Marge Tindal
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
3 posted 2000-09-01 07:03 AM


Oh, Linda~
This is LOVELY !

'Like birds that fly on music unseen
An ensemble on the wind
It summons hearts with its patient weep
“Oh, return to me my friend”


I love the comparison of the birds
to the 'ensemble on the wind'.
Very nice.
~*Marge*~


~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com



Kethry
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082
Victoria Australia
4 posted 2000-09-01 07:07 AM


Linda what a beautiful picture you paint that Whispered on the wind.

I particularly liked;
“Come hold my heart as I hold yours”
As one now with the voice
A narrow path few choose to follow
It’s our eternal choice

Be well
Kethry

"It is the image in the mind that links us to lost treasures;
but it is the loss that shapes the image,
gathers the flowers weaves the garland."-

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