Don’t let me fall away tonight
Until my mind is filled with light
That you, my humble poet, keep
Upon your lips to bring me sleep.
The words need not be fine nor rare
On death, of love, or maidens fair.
You know which lines to whisper near
My throat and cheek, into my ear.
Beside my heart time beats too slow
Awaiting gifts that you bestow
To graciously and gently feed
The hunger of another’s need.
And still you toil more and again
With verse and song, paper and pen.
It is your nature, strong and kind
That comforts me and fills my mind.
So sing to me in hushed blue tones
And write your words upon my bones.
Oh poet, lovely, gentle soul
Rain down on me and make me whole.
Then let the strings and reeds of rhyme
Play in my head your song sublime.
Today, tonight, until I die
Til I am Earth and you are Sky.
Until my mind is filled with light
That you, my humble poet, keep
Upon your lips to bring me sleep.
The words need not be fine nor rare
On death, of love, or maidens fair.
You know which lines to whisper near
My throat and cheek, into my ear.
Beside my heart time beats too slow
Awaiting gifts that you bestow
To graciously and gently feed
The hunger of another’s need.
And still you toil more and again
With verse and song, paper and pen.
It is your nature, strong and kind
That comforts me and fills my mind.
So sing to me in hushed blue tones
And write your words upon my bones.
Oh poet, lovely, gentle soul
Rain down on me and make me whole.
Then let the strings and reeds of rhyme
Play in my head your song sublime.
Today, tonight, until I die
Til I am Earth and you are Sky.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
AJCalhoun
ChillerPop
vanessa seijo
Tinkerertink69
Ann Nichols
Joan H.
Salon.com
Comments
Rod, you're right. It's not. There's poetry in the way the petals of a flower open and close. In the squeal of a plastic pick over a real steel guitar string. So much of it all around, all the time.
anna1liese :) Oh that's so sweet. I like the thought of that ... a prayer. Thank you.
And write your words upon my bones.
Oh poet, lovely, gentle soul
Rain down on me and make me whole.
Then let the strings and reeds of rhyme
Play in my head your song sublime.
Today, tonight, until I die
Til I am Earth and you are Sky."
That last stanza, would have caused Marlowe (or me) to blush.
Until my mind is filled with light
So pretty...and immensely thoughtful.
The poet is the man (or in this case woman) who knows
Of all the thoughts God gives to him (her)
Which are the ones that should be kept
You are a poet(ess)
Melissa, Sweet Sweet Melissa ~ your comment following GreenCelt's makes me giggle, but your very kind sentiment brings me much more joy. xoxo
Thank you, Ms. Owl :) I so appreciate your thoughts.
Thank you, Catch22 ~ that makes me happy :)
Awwwwwwwwww Tomcat ~ You are the poet, my favorite troubadour.
Til I am Earth and you are Sky." Great imagery.
Trigger ~ IMom's just on a cruise ... getting sun, playing BINGO, chasing cabana boys. She'll come back someday ... probably to set you straight on something. ;) And thank you.
Thank you Sheila :) I'm glad you liked it.
thank you, pastvoices :)
And write your words upon my bones"
these words are as good as any thought that might have been behind this, annie. lush, rhythmic, earthwoman.
I see C&V likes them, too. And if the two of you are wrong,
I don't want to be right.
xoxo
how wondrous to see in words what one feels in painting, like that first bit when dancing, when a hand on the back guides a chest against another