Stippled sky

Passing strange

muttered words in uncounted time

Listen closely to your heart-beat.

Words decline into cant –

quick, flippant, arrogant

 Gregorian chants speak across centuries

Cultures buried in silence, the stonemason’s art,

A palimpsest of languages:

Latin, Norman-French, English

Each overtaken in time: vernacular or divine.

Blue eyes at her funeral.

Follow in her footsteps

Step out of line

Stand at the edge

Cliff paths crumble into sky

Sea: birds flow into the heat haze

Vibrations resonate, a sound painting,

Coloured-in, not far from me, in dreamscape,

Richly tapestried cast offs,

Where oblivions come and go;

Birds roam all over this high, stippled sky.

A salt-dried wind stings my eyes

drink-in the horizon..

Image result for Stippled sky painting

◄ Snow in June

In the dread of night ►

Comments

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John Marks

Wed 10th Apr 2019 03:48

Thank you!

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Vautaw

Tue 9th Apr 2019 20:46

What a view to behold. Beautiful John. Your poetry never fails to deliver. 💖

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