Movement.
Dawn hangs on the trees, force slivers floorward,
slips into sleep's acres,
turns shade to tailgates of light over which rays
snipe at quiescence
before sunrise presence moves bleary dreamers
to wide-away doers.
Day breaks to bathe passive eyes with forewarning
for blindness precedes
flashes of conscious surrender to sight as inertia's
sweet stupor
casts veils around seeing but breath catches gasps
when still becomes movement.
Ears mistake sleepy whispers for proactive reality
when shaken mind rouses
to sense Heaven's infinity ticking away rest- time
making the richer
seconds remaining for flight's drowsy treasure as
night hooks day to my use.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2021 04:29
- Comment from author about the poem: Back by request another viewing of Movement - - hope you enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 46
- Users favorite of this poem: rebmasters
Offline)
Comments6
a timely request, and a write worth reposting time n again
a year or so since I read it first, but I recognised it immediately: fondly
that choice wording of 'quiescence' jumps-out once again, dear Fay
thanks for sharing
Sometimes (quite often) your poetry is pretty dense, Fay. And this is one such example. I read it, i think, three times (if you can force me to read something three times, then you have a teensy bit of a worrying power).
Anyway... I'm awake now - awake enough to thank you..
Good write Fay.
Not been on MPS much lately and haven't seen many from you - this is a great return read Fay.
Each day is so special as are your words Fay.
Andy
You have so romanticized that sliver of moment which separates us from the heavenly dream state and nudges us towards the eventuality of another day.
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