Friday, August 30, 2019

Poetic Resurrection



i stepped onto - now hallowed ground,
in search of bones upon to dwell
bones still seeking to be heard,
through poetic voice,
in word transformed

my search spanned o'er a 100 years
i could not find, not one bone
in need of contemplation, not one bone
in need of resurrection

all the bones had taken flight
graves robbed by poets come before
writing lines of life now gone, no bones left
to dwell upon for (me) to free
in poetic verse -
and make grave light

in sweet regard to these empty stones
i turned by heart away
my need for pen and ink not lifted, as noon
felt dusk now nearing; soul and bone
long past leaving

my eye when caught beneath a willow
its limbs weeping - a
robin calling (now silent in her sleep)
her bones now speaking - to my bones
that sought release
through grace and ink - to look beyond
this worldly face seeking

in the quiet of her silence - she
spoke of her days
of children bore in spring and fields
laced trees webbed in autumn seed,
flowers transformed by wind and time -
the sun she loved the world she knew
her wings now heavy

my hands raised to ink her life
to pen her dreams, her song at rest
as with each word a long laid feather lifted -
from her silent breast
as with each word my heart made light
a transformation written -  touching dusk
to guide the flight
as together our bones now lifted

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2019




16 comments:

  1. Maybe its an askant reading, but I take heart that there's a far grander voice offshore of the human if we would only welcome it -- "the sun she loved the world she knew" -- so much there ... or was ... Anyway a wonderful recompassing.

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  2. Hiya - Loved this...

    "my hands raised to ink her life
    to pen her dreams, her song at rest
    as with each word a long laid feather lifted -
    from her silent breast"

    Brilliant! Makes my own effort this month seem modest in it's ambition by comparison... Gald I stopped by!

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  3. This piece has an ecstatic essence b - ethereally wonderful!

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  4. lyrical liftoff describing the same. finding no bones to sing over is an image not soon forgotten.

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  5. Nice line: "laced trees webbed in autumn seed,"

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  6. I felt the power and rising crescendo of that last stanza. Beautifully written.

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  7. Bones always speak to those who are attentive. Love this.

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  8. Eerie and compelling. Robin bones dousing for stories. Thanks for listening.

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  9. This poem is chillingly atmospheric - i was completely transported

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  10. A beautiful poem--haunting and rising in a glorious, atmospheric mix.

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  11. Yes, Rob has the right word - ethereal. This poem lifted my spirits as I read. It is beautiful and lifts the reader above the world making so much noise right now, reminding us of that beautiful world we once knew. It was lovely to see your link at PU this morning, Barbara.

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  12. Bones always know the true telling. Ethereal is the right word for this

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  13. I love the thought of searching for the bones to sing to ... those bone that also sing for you.

    I read it as wish to tell an elegy that also spoke to you.

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  14. Goodness this is beautifully haunting!!❤️

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  15. Homan bones can certainly stir one's emotions as we consider our own future fate. We must remember to leave nothing unsaid or undone or our own bone may try to leave messages as well. What a great read this was.

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  16. An enthralling story, and the bones a powerful symbol.

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