The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
First, there were tulips drenched in somber shades of lavender -
not dirges, but hymns.
He wandered into her field of morose darknesses
carrying moonstruck moments and songs of stars.
She held out her hand, accepting his tithes of laughter
as her new religion, lacking in hypocrisy
and pompous displays of needfulness.
Second, he swathed shadows from her room
with fire, unwanted remnants from her distant past
which cluttered spaces where she might breathe.
She solemnly inhaled the first free air she’d known in years,
smiling slightly at his theatrical gestures of gallantry
and determination.
Third, he gathered her hair between his trembling fingers,
inhaling its meadowed fragrances, deep with loam
and decried its absence from his slumber.
She was startled by his propensity for declaration
and merely leaned forward
for a single kiss, a lifetime
brutal in its beauty.
with errant heart
ReplyDeletepoised gently,
before the grandeur of
unknowing,
we settle, willing
into each wild quiet
refrain,
into the pause between hope
and another day as yet
unborn
~
we makers of words
that run like light,
breaching canopies,
fragile
in their flesh
they that are born within us die there
also - but not before they cross
each void, each moment
set flickering between the us and the other
even in our absences they find flight,
even in our silence they call to us
a whisper of a dream we forgot
for a time
though it never did us
:)
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Sorry to intrude - so I wrote you a poem .. called in untitled #1 ;) -- first thing I've written in over a year ... so do be kind dear lady :) - ah blah ... be honest, you know I'm good with that :)
Please check mail - tis important :)
You are most certainly not intruding — I am quite honored to have this poetic response of yours gracing my page ... and yes, we are both very adept at being honest, in regards to poetry and everything else of substance. Please do consider yourself thoroughly and gently hugged. :)
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