I kissed the dove
who made her nest
in the lonely pool at the bottom of my heart.
Little water-dove
sweet creature, feathered mother,
when I breathe, you flutter, shift, and sigh.
I kissed the foxes
whose meal was lately
in the henhouse where all rain is born.
Little hidden ones
with your silent black feet,
when I cry, you peer out from moonlit memory.
I kissed the gamesman
in the old pink cottage
because he was there, and silent, like God.
I was the little nanny
in the graveyard singing
to the doves, and foxes, and gamesman
peering back at me from the lonely pool
of moonlit memory.
________
for Word Garden Word List--Life After Life.
Music: Rodrigo Adagio
Gah. This is Just. So. Beautiful. So tender.........the opening lines reach straight into the reader's heart, and then the sweetness just keeps on going. Wow.
ReplyDeleteSuch sensitive and touching writing and an artistic use of the words. I especially like the verse about kissing the gamesman in the old pink cottage because he was there,silent like God. It made my heart sing!
ReplyDeleteThere's got to be a word for poetry that is beyond the words on the page. Pure gold, Shay, spun in your delicate yet trenchant way.
ReplyDeleteReally captivating words and such a depth of intimacy. Love how you have woven this.
ReplyDeleteThis is exquisite, Shay. Your use of symbol and metaphor here is the key that turns the heart-lock of this poem, and your imagery is so spare, yet potent, that each line is weighted with gold. Yearning and loss, the warmth of the memory of what was loved and given, always in the pool we have cried, where we sit and see so many things shimmering in our reflections. Or so I read. Even if I am off base, this is still a work of pure beauty.I especially love the doves and foxes, and the ambiguous shadow of the gamesman who breeds/hunts them.
ReplyDeleteYou read it just right, dear BFF.
Deletenarrative poetry of the best kind. Tender, expressive, many layered and haunting.
ReplyDeletetender tender, tender.
ReplyDelete"I was the little nanny
ReplyDeletein the graveyard singing
to the doves, and foxes, and gamesman
peering back at me from the lonely pool
of moonlit memory."
Just gorgeous writing, Shay!
Oh this is so beautiful. It brought much needed joy and light into my morning.
ReplyDeleteMooning over your poem! Straight out of the gate with that deep soul metaphor! That first stanza captured me, and then the whole poem kept me there, entranced in that moonlit memory. The poem has this humble quality, yet is so rich and exquisite--saying what needs to be said just right.
ReplyDelete