there’s a time–

wrapped in ferns and webs,
i’m lost deep in the forest,

sleep in tree crowns, covered
by warm feathers, “there’s

a time to run and time to rest”
he says with age-old voice &
mountain torrents
run beneath his tongue

we sit on weather-beaten rocks,
talking, weighing, wind
blows through my wings

“most of you come a long way”
he says, tender voice,
hands like bark, his eyes

reflect the color of the sky, we go
to all these places, tear apart
and mend again &

buried in his breath i kiss
sun-warm lips that split
the spreading shades,

taste of mornings
and courage to move on &

when i leave, moss
& tiny splints of sunrise hang
like spray paint in my hair

.

Victoria has us write symbolism at dVerse today…she’s prepared a wonderful article and will open the pub doors at 3pm EST..

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54 responses to “there’s a time–

  1. Hands like bark and then that wonderful image in the ending! Really love that “tiny splints of sunrise hang like spray paint in my hair”–brilliant

  2. Beautiful, very dream-like. I love ” we go
    to all these places, tear apart
    and mend again”

    and “buried in his breath i kiss
    sun-warm lips that split
    the spreading shades”

  3. Sometimes sitting on weather beaten rocks and just taking time to breathe is what makes all the difference. I love the last stanza. Tiny splints of sunrise hanging like spray paint in your hair. Beautiful. 🙂

  4. Such a fairyland of wonder and enchantment you weave here, Claudia! You have most successfully turned us into sunrise beams and fern fronds. And so we cannot but dance among the delicate petals of wishes and dreams.

  5. there is some wonderful amgic in your words…the desription of the guy, love the nature hints…tasting the mornings….love that…there is an implied intimacy that is so cool….

    sorry i am blowing in a little late…smiles.

  6. Written in such a way that only you can produce.
    I have no [well, maybe some] idea why, but I heard Treebeard from LotR talking in this piece.

  7. Give me that spray painted hair, just so’s I could talk with the spirit of the wood or ride on his shoulder like–was it Frodo? I will rest and then go, I LOVE THIS POEM SO! It even smells green.

  8. I love the last three lines. More often than not I don’t like similes, but sometimes they can be used to say something startling like (ah!) using a highlighter pen. The sudden and brusque intrusion of the artificial (spray paint) into a poem with a full-on rustle and clatter of woodland images – moss, bark, birdfeathers – is a wonderfully poetic moment.

    Claudia, you are one of my greatest delights on wordpress. I must put you up with Lane A Smith as one of the best barely-discovered poets of the 21c.

    (You will now embarrass me by pointing out your copious collections of published works.)

  9. Life and growth, the green of spring, the promise of rain and sun all evoked beautifully here, Claudia…and the layers of symbolism are never too obvious, an organic component of the piece. Beautiful poem.

  10. Brought to mind lines from “Evangeline”…”This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
    Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms…”

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