Myself.
I start as a brook
in the far distant hills
which beginning
in droplets clinging
together passes through
rills between tiny ridges, spills
down small land-slides, tumbles in
miniature waterfalls to join streamlets
as ripples then sliding I hurry
over stony-sharp pebbles, breaching
ridged beds where frothing in bubbles
rushing I mingle with deeper
waters but stop to chatter under low
willows before altering
my tune to a baritoned river.
Then no more warbling in creeks
for me so bowling slower I walk to greet
other voices converging like tenors in
choral excitement, drowning me
out with ocean-toned roars belonging
to power as wide-mouth basso
eases my weakly trills into sea-songs.
Yet I will ever
know myself
as a brook
that springs
from hill-height
dashing between
granite nooks
and crannies
to delight
in brimming
over rocky beds
where my hum
is welcomed
by mossy pebbles
and where birds come
to drink and wet
feet and feathers
in my warm shallows
before I roll on
having to settle
for large water duets
and lost then
my previous whispers,
not forgot tho' soft
solo of mountain's clear
creeks in such fortissimo
as an ocean knows
only bottomless singing
loaded with lots
of littlest notes.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: October 1st, 2020 01:51
- Comment from author about the poem: HOPING YOU ENJOY A RE-READ OF A POEM I WROTE A WHILE AGO.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments8
Good write Fay.
Thanks Orchi -- glad you dropped by for a read about the trickle of streams before they meet rivers and seas.
such a therapeutic read during our COVID horror reality, as we remain
- removed, from ready access to Nature's wonders,
well worth a secondary upload
Ah - my gratitude L.B. for your visit and read of Myself as a stream........
Having read these words previously .. it was a delight to see them bubble back to the surface ... and tho already familiar with them .. or as familiar as one can possibly be with something so infinitely mercurial as water ...
I would advise anyone who might follow me here ..
and just to allow them to trickle over the inside of their eyelids, to relax in their waft and bathe in their cooling beauty ...
Wow - a delicious word is "mercurial" Nev and am feeling honoured you think my stream of words are infinite too - - - pleased that although its second time round the read still relaxed and calmed your fevered brow........ get yourself well and soon dear friend.
I probably said the same last time. It is such a wonderful journey from a trickle of water to the ocean but memories of the brook. Wonderful words Fay.
Andy
Delighted you saw the journey a stream makes from tickle to river and ocean beyond -- thanks dear Andy for your kind review second time round of Myself...
Lovely to read these words again! Is it a new format different. It forms a lamp ? Then it could be a mountain connection to the ever flowing droplet 💧 of me,
Ah how thrilled I am that you remember the first read of Myself as a stream dear friend - -- the format is nearly the same with a few added notions.
Late to the table and it's all been said - a flow of a wriite dear Fay.
In the poetic sense, if you meant "Myself" to mean you, then this is you growing as a poetess on your way to be a part of the great ocean of poets with "bottomless singing loaded with lots of littlest notes." A beautiful poem Fay.- Phil A
So much music here!
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