Sunday, June 1, 2008

Scribblings and tangential curves on Sunday

Last night as I floated above the treetops
Clouds were forming to the north
Grace gazed at the river’s edge
Shaking out her skirt, small birds flew
And with their beaks wrote new chapters
From the ink the river spilled under the stars.

On pristine ice I made figure eights
While Grace gathered from those clouds
Sweet children
From her plaits she released blue ribbons
And tied sashes and curving hair bows for each
Then into one ear, and the next she whispered,

Take heart, my dear one
You’ll find your own story I’ve kept
Page after page, book after book
Ink barely dry.
Third cousins will become first,
You are related and dear.

Melancholy dawn and slumber’s end
It was time for me to sweep up fallen stars
Release the lambs and ewes
And close the elephant’s gate.
On the lintel
My key to the day hung from a new blue ribbon.

My sleepy thoughts on the prompt 'curve' for Sunday Scribblings. See more curves here.


Beatriz' suitcase contents said...

Sleepy? Thoughts like these are more dreamy than sleepy. Wonderful writing, full of imagery and lusciousness.

Dina said...

Delicate curves and words!

evlahos said...

you have very interesting and beautiful captures all over your blog. well done

Granny Smith said...

As delicious and tender as love of life.


Julie Schuler said...

squealing with delight over the ribbons and pleats! Yes!

gautami tripathy said...

Very well woven. Loved this!


missalister said...

I’m just now getting here, I can’t belieeeeeve it!
The first stanza is so it, so loosely tightly connected like tendons, supple, strong… The imagery is so casually all-knowing, mysterious, so slow and soothing… I see this powerful, sweeping Grace, the Mother, shaking out the birds to dip their beaks in the river ink…
It’s all choice…my key to the day…
Do you wrangle with your writing or do you just sit down and invite creativity to curse through your veins, write what comes, and that is that? Tell us a secret you can part with ;-)