Friday, September 23, 2011

Are You Real?






When I passed through your world . . .
did I leave anything behind?
my heart maybe . . 
a single tear?
a dream .. . a song . . .

once upon a time
a bird flew through an open window
leaving a melody . . 
and a single blue feather . .. 
there in my hand . . . and I saw through the misty distance . . 
as if it was yesterday . . . a heartbeat away . . .

Somewhere
I left a simple memory
of laughter . . . and pictures . . .
wishes . . . and a purple balloon . . .
rising in the air above a river
winding sinuously . . .  slowly . . 
her waters tossing the sunlight
in sparkles and shadows
into your dreamy eyes . .. 

your world . .  a magical land
where the stars bloom
like daisies on a sacred expanse . . .
a place of angels and goddesses . . .
their edges and smiles worn away by ancient passages
of an entity called Time . . .

a distant land
where a fisherman walks on water .  .
where we found hidden kingdoms growing
out of amber and burgundy cliffs,
and valleys so deep
they echo with the fall of dew . . .
and there we found . .. 
ambrosial wines and cheeses . . 
and a lonely old mamma . . . a goddess
sitting on the green . . .
with an eternal smile between her withered cheeks . .
and in the morning the sunflowers
stretch to the blue skies from their lush valleys . . .
and in the morning the birds
fly higher and higher . . . like ashes wafted
into the streaming clouds . . .

we walked along the
hills which grasped the lazy waters
between their bosoms . . 
and I heard their secret sigh 
ascending through cavernous deeps . . 
their song rising up . . . 
from the shadowy beating heart
of the planet . . 
a throbbing heat . . .
a dull red glow . ..   
a place between us . . . you and I . . .
you walk on the one side
and I on the other . . .
forever we are connected
by streams of moving memories . . .




- an orangeupurple dedication (and thank you)  to van syla . . .  a dear friend.
**************************************************************************




The aerie of the eagle
beyond the reach of the dreaming one . . .
is touched by the song
of the piano .. . which music will fly
and take the listener
. . . on the wings of an eagle
 . . . higher and higher
 and higher still
 . . . where we touch the stone
that splits the mountain
 . . . spilling the richness of the sea,
gathering all the stars of the heavens,
having and holding it all
 . . . yet giving it freely
to the dreamer with the outstretched arms,
who is part of the glory
 . . . and the beginning and end
of an eternal story . . .











2 comments:

Van Syla said...

Thank you Barb, for this very beautiful poem and for your friendship.
Syl

Wolfsong said...

You're welcome and thank you for all your kindnesses . . .