Fay Slimm.



When words mean
no more, as sentences stand to the side
in haunting silence,
allowing young moon, head in low mist
of kissing cloudlets,
to re-bound one nightingale's drenching
of air streams
with bird sound I stand in awe hearing

magic dreamily waiting for more..

I shall remember
this silver-sheened lake-side songster,
trills echoing
before disappearance in tallest spears
leaving dumb  
wonder with which I now dare to write
versing the sequence 
of key-dripping outburst in meaningful
phrases, describing 
the piercing harmony of winged pride
voicing heart beneath 
diamond star-brooches bent on joining
the listening scene
which appeals to my pen and as water 
aids bird in rippling  

duet broken is night's hold on silence 

and begins by torchlight

this my humble attempt at poetic ode.



    THANKS FAY : Angela here : Love the picture and I love Birdsong ! Cornwall is a Magic Place and I am pleased that your observations of the sights & sounds of Nature so move your Muse to produce delightful Poetry. Brian & Mike try to educate me about Poetic Form : BUT you simply present your own style of fluid verse : which I love but could never emulate. It is a perfection of verbal cadence ! Thanks You for being You and freely sharing your poetic Elegance with us 24/7 !
    Love ANGELA 🧡🧡🧡🧡

  • orchidee

    This is not at all 'odious' (ode-ious) but a fine ode Fay!

  • Michael Edwards

    Simply a joy to read as ever Fay

  • Theta the scholar

    This details I can almost hear and feel I wish I read this at night on my stairs. Beautiful write Fay keep it up

  • Goldfinch60

    What a wonderful poem Fay, I could hear that nightingale through your words.

  • Joe Dawson

    'Humble attempt'? Not a bit of it, you have succeeded and very well too. Most enjoyable. Joe

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