Footsteps of Silence in Me


starving for poetry, lyrical and suave
hands and lips of wind
heart of water
rhymes of eucalyptus
stanzas of rose buds
camp grounds of the infinite
studded round words of clouds

syntax of born every day anew
ruby paragraphs, I rub my eyes
the sky walks the land
and sunsets dance under this knife
starving for poetry, lyrical and sweet
what can sustain nightfall
clarity of half-open omens

words as light let loose on lost gardens
shivering for self-absorbed moments
starving for poetry, am I alone in this?
hushed fountains of beauty
edges blur, lime becomes black
memory becomes a bare white necessity
writing has made the world more dream-like

less credible, destiny seems just
a music without measurement
in time’s passing through circumstance
I see them outside of me, my life passing
within me, like an architecture of choice
but there is no choice, I am myself the circumstance
I am myself the poetry, and only silence

lines the grown with candles, only she
can extinguish all this, and then she does.

20 thoughts on “Footsteps of Silence in Me

    • of course, no need to ask permission. You make quote lines, make poems out of stanzas or anything like that.

      poetry to me is just a language we all speak..some with courage, others in secret.

      • Always food for thought when I read your work, and now, your message. Thanks for making me think. I’m not certain I dig deeply enough, but I do love writing, even simplistic things. Thanks for permission for the re-blog. I just like to double check. Huge smiles.

    • Thanks Jade, we all live in our fabulous mess. There are days where, I’d prefer to see poetry than reality, until poetry becomes my reality. In those moments, I often wonder if art is just another means to escapism? like religion or entertainment…

  1. You have captured so well the mysterious, magical essence of poetry. Beautiful poem, love your imagery and in particular your use of color.

    Yes, i hunger, i starve for poetry. It nourishes me, for it is me.

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