Saturday, August 9, 2014

Dancing in the Dark





These lines that weave our thought designs
Throb with unwritten poetry
Where kindled spark in unpenned dark
Rouses restless intimacy

The sun climbs high in honeyed sky
How swift dusk’s shadow-citadel
Rises, then shrinks, its phantom ink
Fades in the footfalls of farewell

And we, with pens poised eagerly
Confess we cannot capture this
The aura of longing and love
Entwined like vines on silver mist

Where thought designs ten-thousand lines
Aching to cleave form from the air
And we admit the angst of it
Is sometimes more than we can bear

Yet we attempt, not yet exempt
From laws of Duty and Desire
To spill from quill thoughts burning will
Where kindled spark becomes a fire

© Janet Martin

The love/hate relationship of writing…
Oft word teases thought
yet never quite appeases.

1 comment:

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.