Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Alexandrovsky Sad

(Alexandrovsky Gardens)

Our feet were wings
over the cobblestones.
The October rain
was a curtain, rising

upon a stage filled
by dancers, singers,
gypsies and painters,
singers and writers.

You spoke--my soul
chimed clear--
a crystal bell--
inside your eyes.

I stepped through
an avant-garde
encaustic of a door
at the new Manege.

Then fell my silence,
as false a note
as an evening star
sparkling at midday.

Zemfira - "PMML" - (Forgive me, my love)

This poem came out all wrong.

It is a perennial habit of mine to say the wrong thing, or nothing at all, at the right time.

I want to tell the last few leaves clinging to the poplars that their shimmering dance is as impressive and poignant as the most delicate pas de deux. Instead, I stare at them in stunned silence.

I neglect to express how in love I am with the daily astonishments: the sunrise, the endless plays of shadow and color, the afternoon sunshine, the sunset, the moonlight, the starlight, candlelight, lamplight, and the darkness.

I take a cool, refreshing breath, or three, or a thousand, and forget to say--thank you--

The walls of my warm house fold 'round me like a cosy cloak. A cat curls up at my feet.

Infinities of gratitude to every-one, every-where, every-thing and in every-way.




bluestorm said...

Such a soulful entry - poem and all !!

Iulia Flame said...

The soul--a candle--too bright and dark for words to touch--

thank you.

raw poetry by donna snyder said...

For some reason, my phone won't let me comment on google +, on my own posts or others'. I wanted to say, Don't miss the delight this writer brings. I wanted to say, Reading Flame brings me the same heady pleasure I felt reading of beauty and squalor and exotic lands, trapped in that stucco shack with its pitched tin roof, when I was a child living in Twitty. I wanted to say, Flame's writing enchants me. Take a few minutes and treat yourself to the pleasure bright by her imagery and her way with words. Thank you, my dear Flame in the Snow.

Iulia Flame said...

Oh Donna....I, too am also enthralled by your writing.

I want to hear more about your stucco shack with its pitched tin roof. xx

the song of a shell sapphire melting inside jade a color unnamed Ofra Haza's version of this song defies categoriz...

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