A Pause Between
Whence come these words?
From what whispering tongue?
Or what grey spider shining spun
These filaments, the ghosts of sound,
The snares by which my thoughts are bound
And pinned upon the bleach-boned sheet,
Their airy beauty made concrete?
I know not how they come to me--
Like leaves snatched from a gilded tree,
Or gemstones delved from hallowed grounds,
The bright sea where my reason drowns.
Is it I who seek, or they who find,
These words which whisper in my mind?
I do not understand this mystery--
How do these words belong to me?
It's great! Much better than I could do. Poetry and me....well....let's just say, I haven't bothered to get to know it yet. Is the DragonSpell book on your list by Donita K. Paul? That book is excellent!
ReplyDeleteYou already know that I think this is beautiful. It's just.... amazing. :)
ReplyDeleteGood--reminded me of this: http://www.ronnowpoetry.com/contents/rumi/WhoSaysWords.html
ReplyDeleteHuh, cool, never read that poem before. But it seems to be talking about the same idea I'm trying to get at.
ReplyDeleteIn retrospect, I think part of what triggered that particular train of thought which led to this poem was Ahab's monologue near the end of
'Moby Dick': "Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm?"
Love the second stanza! Images there are great.
ReplyDelete