The counting-fall,
And
through the crested loop
There
your footsteps . . .
And
your steady progress
To
where I lodge:
The
stuff of inner tremours
Making
all the difference
Telling
of this blind new magic
In
a bold waiting delight
Forging
deep within me
A new
crystal fountain
Of
liquid life welling up:
All
words well clear of Sensennae’s
Deceiving
waters, of course,
But
in, newer, fluid words:
A ‘fall-which-matters;’
And
a farther entering-in
With
which to grasp
The
pearl-shaped thing;
And
find again, the silver thread
Which
once, in another time,
Captivated
the whole rest of me
And
sincerely took for good...my entire life.
Yes!
The counting-fall!
It
is, you, who come stepping near
Clothed
in dark garments
Ready
to frighten me
But
it is too late! I know!
You
cannot fool me now!
Drawing
near
You
fill me full with ecstasy,
Round,
golden, and terribly rare!
Rare
. . . rare . . .
And
no one hears your step but me . . .
*
1.) The Counting-Fall ...This is the first poem in an extended sequence, which will eventually form a complete book, illustrated by the author with a number of hand-written and hand-decorated poems. The book bears the same title as this first poem:
THE COUNTING-FALL.
I only write poetry these days... but, I don't like to call them "poems," just, Ragged Writings.
Here is a link to my blog...AMETHYST POETRY....
where the above sequence of poems is posted daily as I write them.
THE COUNTING-FALL.
I only write poetry these days... but, I don't like to call them "poems," just, Ragged Writings.
Here is a link to my blog...AMETHYST POETRY....
where the above sequence of poems is posted daily as I write them.
No comments:
Post a Comment