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Post by Dunstan Attard on Mar 10, 2011 4:55:55 GMT -5
She has a way how to pack her bags;
on her knees in silence singing the tune of the malachite beyond the Orion to her Betelgeuse lips.
Outside, the night is soft, cloistered beneath bell-towers, perfect in its peace.
She has a way how to pack her bags among the rustle of plastic impressions, letting each vivid item ride a space of time before it is softly laid glinting at the edges.
For a moment, her moon-kissed fingers linger on the cold steel of the loss and remembrance left unpacked.
She is finally going to her home that lies beneath the rapid flows of a tide darting through the coastal stay of Normandy;
she picks the bags she packed In a hint of eternal trespass, ready for a voyage that has long ago departed, that has long ago arrived
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Post by Ivan Carswell on Mar 13, 2011 18:20:35 GMT -5
Magnificent Dunstan, and perfect as it is...
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Post by Dunstan Attard on Mar 14, 2011 8:38:45 GMT -5
many thanks ivan...took the poem some time to settle but i am now quite satified with outcome.
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Post by leecrowell on Mar 17, 2011 22:02:22 GMT -5
she picks the bags she packed In a hint of eternal trespass ready for a voyage that has long ago departed, that has long ago arrived all the stanzas are nice and this one's my favorite because of the balance I've been reading more poems than ever lately and this is absolutely light years ahead of them Publish this the first chance you get.
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Post by Dunstan Attard on Mar 18, 2011 11:27:51 GMT -5
thank you lee for your generous comment...much appreciated ...warm greetings
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Post by Joy Leftow on May 23, 2011 9:53:07 GMT -5
absolutely lovely.
I miss Bernard and his insights for Cartier. It is so hard to find fitting poetry. I think I stumbled back where I need to be to see ...
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