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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: blackbird, blackbirddots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 1292
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 511
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 5166



    Description:
       something different


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsblackbird, blackbirddots
    -------------------------------------------


    blackbird, blackbird, the directions far lost;
    the open ways have all turn'd within
    to find, and rend, the rolling rocks moss:
    breaking good visage, to conjure dawn's bend.


    Leave it to words to cover colour or deflect
    the sun-light’s, only dance into form
    and distant, high rising cities;
    i cannot take this morsel of production!


    Loving forth, in all directions, thy beating arc
    reaches and bends the open landscapes
    around far flourishing mind; and the
    stellar hungers hide within until night-time calls;


    For, dark sleep, live heavy water’s way
    wilt not ever shape or move through sun’s
    dominion; letting the budding meadow
    into cauldrons of stone or sturdy cement.


    But, rather, night’s burdens stay within in the patron that may transport its heavy
    way; love and spirit are only
    dwarfed by the all mother who awaits…


    Floating cloud folly before bright endless ships
    could have turned back spring into
    winter, into the spirited body,
    into the all-motion of orange morning pulls --- out to sea.


    I let out a galling yell, a quick burst
    of everlast, into the worrisome
    night-time; between starlight and
    cool grey clouds lusters the mother’s voice.


    The ocean’s currents pull forward and open
    my chasms, open the spirited body into her
    lusciousness; she shivers with sun-furnaces
    and I lick her into daylight and fire.


    I tucked in corners afraid of you
    and walked a river without shoes or socks;
    until I reached a heavy delta that
    pulled me beneath its waters, and into you.


    You bleed out into the spring-time and your nectar
    helps flourish the begotten earth, helps
    mend the broken stones whom find no
    path short of rolling, in all their lives.


    blood turns to green and browns and rotting
    tones of death and beginning; time turns
    backwards for short moments, and the
    red reaches into the tomorrow world, into dust


    and I cough, and cough, and spill out the liquids,
    the solitary satellites that encircle
    thine own secret movements, the secret currents
    all within; and tomorrow breaks to pieces…


    my toes touch hers, and yours, before you can wake
    or even take in morning’s airy yeasts rising; long
    before the slow wondrous voice
    rumors what would be lost in sleep;


    For, below the waters, there is no murmur
    of ocean’s weight, or mass, or capacity, to rule
    out the motions of winter, or the Mayan
    spring; or last september at my lake house.


    I hid beneath the covers and looking into
    your eyes to tell of secrets darker than
    the simple forest could; the ocean’s opened up
    and I turned, and tossed, inside of you.


    The floor rose up and made a mighty footing
    for birds; but clouds let go into the higher
    spheres, into greater circles that linger
    towards mountainous faces and snow drifts;


    I laid next to the root to listen
    thus, to a slower speaking, of the lifeless rock’s far
    journeying way; but could only hear
    thine own heart’s beating like a tide --- alone.


    Was it the open ear to miss voices’s meaning
    or let the seed fall barren within the soul?
    the cloud breaks into autonomous divisions
    and leaves me, all wanton for their own way.



    The doors are all unsigned and puddles dripping
    from a storm that thrashed and mangled
    the sensitive bark; the fresh nectar pours
    out, onto the ground, and flows out of reach.



    I placed one hand on the branch and you
    took the other, and lifting our bodies thus;
    we climbed the treacherous ways of green
    clamouring, and sand-paper skin that hurt afterward.


    The leaflets kept us from the rain and
    was our gravitation while stretched branch
    to branch; your lips touched mine, and
    went through me, to the trunk, down to flourish the great earth...





    Submitted on 2007-07-13 21:04:49     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Hm... The return to nature seems to be the true theme of your poems. As I've said it reflects the part of the world you live in perfectly. Is like you are longing for that connection to happen again. That life should return to it's natural course. These are all good lines. You view birds differently than I do. Check out my poem "Black Phoenix Rising" to see my perspective of flight and life as a whole. You should also check out my older poems, it's only fair that way. Pay great attention to their structure, especially poems like "Vertical". Those are all steps and if you climb on them you will break free from this earth and start exploring other places.
    | Posted on 2008-06-13 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ]
      Oh my gosh, I love this! It's very nice and yet...dreamy to me. I love it! Keep writing man.
    ~*alexis*~
    | Posted on 2007-07-14 00:00:00 | by darkwiccan14 | [ Reply to This ]


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