CROCUS
She glides across rooms in my mind
leaving a perfumed trace
a malleable presence of her
unique being speaks to me
Unconsciously I utter her message
preparing the ground
scattering ripe forms
of organic shape
Words born from clays birthed in earth
fired in volcanic heat
cooled softened tempered
sit gently on the page
or
in air float lovingly.
or
in air float lovingly.
© MRL 19-06-12
The Unknowngnome said:
ReplyDeleteA delicate trace of mind. Floating.
Apologies for accidentally deleting the first comment, which is now re-instated
ReplyDeleteWonderful. For me you perfectly capture the moment of trying to turn an essence of an idea into words on paper.
ReplyDeleteIn accepting what you say Jane: I need to explain that telepathy in this particular model provided the "essence"
DeleteLove is indeed telepathic. It floats in a delicate trace of mind resting in the other. The closest one can get to it is in the Crocus.
ReplyDeleteHeron, this piece has captured me. Well done.
I really like this. It feels ethereal, magical and yet captures the unknown essence of the process of writing and perhaps too, of loving. Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteKim said:
ReplyDeleteLove it, Mel! Like your rambling mind!
Kim
Lovely imagery Mel...the scent of magic.
ReplyDeleteWow - I think this is one of your best poems so beautiful :)
ReplyDelete