A ceramic cup
is my body--my bones are
stems of brushes--
my blood is paintwater.

The window is nine panes.
The walls are blank, the door to the hall ajar.
wintry mix.
Traffic, graylight, finger-wind.

Rain falls of its own weight--
snow's geometry fragile as dreams.
When they kiss, one disappears--
the dull shine of sidewalks
leads everywhere, nowhere.

A ceramic cup
--winter white--
is my body.
I touch yours (again) in the stems of brushes,
soft tips brilliant and singular
then done, swirled
in the cup's anonymity.

for Toni's "Shades Of Rain" at Toads.

Jose Feliciano's amazing rendition of a Fred Neil song about rain:




Kerry O'Connor said…
This could be the most beautiful poem I have ever read.
Fireblossom said…
Kerry, my goodness, THANK YOU.
annell4 said…
Yes, a most beautiful poem!!!
tonispencer said…
Be still my heart. This IS the most beautiful poem I have read.
Fireblossom said…
Wow. Thank you, Toni. Between you and Kerry I'm gonna need to go stick my head in the freezer to take down the swelling. :-P
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Spectacularly beautiful. You have outdone yourself. And that is saying something, given you set the bar so high. Wow!
Helen said…
You're gonna have to suck it up (no freezer) and take a few well deserved bows for this spectacular write!
Anonymous said…
tender, soft, gentle, so not with the usual scorpion sting and bite, and yet within each word, a fine china balance of imagery, metaphor - capturing essences, and senses, and of course, the chilly affect of rain, in all its forms - very lovely, and quite the surprise, but more than speaks to your abilities to finely craft and show a wealth of sides, possibilities and dimensions - really, very moving!
Cloudia said…
"Rain falls... ". Wonderful word picture in that stanza.
hedgewitch said…
Everything here chimes like a glass bell on a summer evening, mournful yet infinitely sweet. The craft is so far above what one expects even from the old masters, that the beauty washes over one before, almost, you can draw a ragged breath. I especially like the economy of phrase--you have said just enough about everything, and not too much to tip over the heavy load the poem so gracefully carries. Brilliant is the only word I can find, Shay. Just brilliant. I hope the heartfelt praise here helps mitigate the feelings that birthed it.
Margaret said…
So creative. Who knew a ceramic cup could be so romantic ... I adore how you flip to "The window is nine panes" from the intimate. Gorgeous write.
Kim M. Russell said…
A superbly fragile poem, Shay! I love every line of it.
"snow's geometry fragile as dreams.
When they kiss, one disappears"

the very definition of love and poetry
brudberg said…
What a wonderful poem Shay, simply love the references to painting and ink... the rain is there in the background, calligraphy is born from water and the cup.
Outstanding from the first stanza to last. Hard to find words for this beauty.
Brendan said…
What everyone said -- icily halcyon. Clear as winter cold in drubbing sleet. An arch sadness there -- so bittersweet -- yet the heart is clarified in absence, is it not? It is always a wonder when one of the tribe lifts us all up in work like this. Amen. Here's blanket, dear, don't stay out too late.
Sioux Roslawski said…
Yeah, Shay, you're going to put your head in the freezer and we're going to put OUR heads in the oven... because we could never even get close to your brilliance.