A temporal silence pervades
there, where once we dwelt together.
It was a place made of odd stuff of dreams, old collectibles,
drawn from across the world.
A brass jar once polished to a glaze of gold,
crystals wrought to healing shapes,
paint brushes stacked in old coffee mugs,
books which opened into words of an alien kind...
A writing desk, a jar filled with water,
holding a single leaf on a single stem,
some book opened randomly, left half-read,
with a bookmark that has flown away.
There is a coffeemaker, long unused.
And those books which overflowed the shelves,
they did not invade the rooms in such overwhelming numbers before;
not before I began to earn and my pockets felt the warmth of money!
Those were the times when there was
a lone bookstore around the corner,
and few visitors once in a while.
Books were the objects to be handled with a feel
for the aroma of adhesive and the brand new ink.
On the wall was hung a clumsily made portrait I drew
of a poet with dreamy eyes and a flowing white beard,
and in its glass frame could be seen
the reflection of every passerby who passed along the road below the balcony.
And how could I forget the black kitten who stood guard every hour,
as that was the mission entrusted to her by her Animal God.
That was a world within a world,
a brass jar polished to a glaze of gold!
Sushama
May 15, 2017
photo: урок ботаники
photographer: figasmakom
photodom.com
REPLY
REPLY
never so blind
that we can't see.....
what is write in front of me.
Kevin Walsh
to Sushama Karnik
REPLY
there, where once we dwelt together.
It was a place made of odd stuff of dreams, old collectibles,
drawn from across the world.
A brass jar once polished to a glaze of gold,
crystals wrought to healing shapes,
paint brushes stacked in old coffee mugs,
books which opened into words of an alien kind...
A writing desk, a jar filled with water,
holding a single leaf on a single stem,
some book opened randomly, left half-read,
with a bookmark that has flown away.
There is a coffeemaker, long unused.
And those books which overflowed the shelves,
they did not invade the rooms in such overwhelming numbers before;
not before I began to earn and my pockets felt the warmth of money!
Those were the times when there was
a lone bookstore around the corner,
and few visitors once in a while.
Books were the objects to be handled with a feel
for the aroma of adhesive and the brand new ink.
On the wall was hung a clumsily made portrait I drew
of a poet with dreamy eyes and a flowing white beard,
and in its glass frame could be seen
the reflection of every passerby who passed along the road below the balcony.
And how could I forget the black kitten who stood guard every hour,
as that was the mission entrusted to her by her Animal God.
That was a world within a world,
a brass jar polished to a glaze of gold!
Sushama
May 15, 2017
photo: урок ботаники
photographer: figasmakom
photodom.com
heaven finds its way
through your veins and nerves to your fingertips.....
where She talks to the paper
below your pen......
you are that good. :-)
through your veins and nerves to your fingertips.....
where She talks to the paper
below your pen......
you are that good. :-)
Kevin Walsh
Lol! Gone are those days when fingers held a pen and talked to the paper! Now I just can't think and write unless all my fingers cooperate and dance on the keyboard of the laptop. Glad that you liked this post, poet! +Kevin Walsh
that we can't see.....
what is write in front of me.
Kevin Walsh
to Sushama Karnik
Sushama Karnik The ethereal connections they need antennas. And beautiful thoughts, poems and songs. I wish you all the best !This is not my favorite !!!!!! I hope you like it.
Gyorgy Fulop to Sushama Karnik
Bruno Sanfilippo ~ Intropassion
8
24
- Thankyou +György Fülöp Loved your post of Rosalia Alpina with its lovely antennae
REPLY May 15, 2017 - heaven finds its way
through your veins and nerves to your fingertips.....
where She talks to the paper
below your pen......
you are that good
:)REPLY May 15, 2017 - Lol! Gone are those days when fingers held a pen and talked to the paper! Now I just can't think and write unless all my fingers cooperate and dance on the keyboard of the laptop. Glad that you liked this post, poet! +Kevin Walsh
REPLY May 15, 2017 - May 15, 2017
- +Sushama Karnik The ethereal connections they need antennas. And beautiful thoughts, poems and songs. I wish you all the best !This is not my favorite !!!!!! I hope you like it.
Bruno Sanfilippo ~ IntropassionREPLY May 15, 2017 - May 15, 2017
- +Sushama Karnik Sends warmhearted feathers my friend & Thx for always Bright-eyed Poems
Take careREPLY May 15, 2017 - May 15, 2017
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