each window pane
a page
a coffer of my heart
that holds and bleeds with time
the contents of my soul
the day has had no wanting
of candle
carries light enough , its own
as the glass of each pane
bleeds it very last
discontent the day
un-need of; bee and ivy come to life
and i gather in the stillness
of time without exigency
of face
allowing day movement, its
memory webbed within the paltry panes
now laced and
now splintered
now shear
and
softly laid, this
casting of a lifetime
written as my own, Oh!
call the candle softened, yet
call this day undone
let each page reflect the prism, the
prism of my bone -
Call!
Come bee!
Come bud!
Come ivy, All who know this mortal life!!
and hold these pages open
until death
becomes night
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2013
so very cool...love the call...and the use of exclamation points...it adds an expediency for me....the window panes make me think poems...small views of us we put to page...prism of my bones is just a cool phrase and rich with symbolism...very nice bk
ReplyDelete"call the candle softened, yet
ReplyDeletecall this day undone
let each page reflect the prism, the
prism of my bone - this
casting of a lifetime
written as my own, Oh!"
"My candle burns at both ends;
it will not last the night;
but ah, my foes,
and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!"
Indeed you do!
Stunning. This is a good example of how those punctuation marks, the use of bold font and enjambment can add so much to a poem. Love the images.
ReplyDeleteIt is always such a treat for me to read your work. I like the scenes unfolded as pages
ReplyDeleteWindow panes, pages, and prisms - wonderful.
ReplyDeleteLovely, Barbara... I really like the double meaning of pane.
ReplyDelete