The moon sinks into the mist,
cascades down the arc of the spine
splashes delight into the water
notes of the palest moonlight,
like wine.
Wordless whispers of calm,
this prelude to a fierce passion.
It is a world of tenderness you weave
with the genius of your fingers.
Monday, September 01, 2008
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14 comments:
Mystic,
The last 2 lines are ecstatic -
"It is a web of tenderness you weave
with the genius of your fingers. "
The music is very soothing...
The genius of Pele, Beckham, Beckenbauer also resides downstairs. But the control room is always upstairs.
Every single line is romantic.
I was reading about Beethoven the other day, Mystic. About his writings to the Immortal Beloved, and his letter (the Heiligenstadt Testament) written to his brothers to be read at his death, outlining his torment over deafness, he felt it so terribly in social situations.
I imagine he would be grateful for your words, which can be read and still make music in the heart.
Yes! I like this version very much.
genius indeed :)
I love this Rose - you describe it exquisitely. Yes, I will have to listen again...
amazing blend of elements. loved the final lines...
OMG I love this poem. you have an award waiting for you on my blog.
"Wordless whispers of calm,
this prelude to a fierce passion"
Beautifully done.
Outstanding :) Like everything you write.
Kiss, Ani
thts really a nice one!!
Ruth,
I changed it again, after you said you like it. Im still nto satisfied with this, I think its just going ot be work in progress till I get it right.
this one is lovely.
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