Untitled – on writing

 

 

Autumn stoops,
Picking memories to gather before winter,
All the hues of the world, translated through stem
And petals resignated voice.
When I write, I write something new
As if watching birds will help me fly,
As if each fallen leaf, summered and spoken
Becomes, a petal after winters turn.
I write and rewrite as flowers drop
Their petticoats, picking heartbeats
Coloured with the shades of sunset.
Now, they mark a new memory.

Is uncertainty the same as not knowing?

 

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

 

Submission for Third Sunday Blog Carnival Volume 1, No. 3 http://thirdsundaybc.com/

 

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24 thoughts on “Untitled – on writing

  1. It’s a beautiful poem you wrote here. You’ve used such beautiful imagery! I LOVE it!

    “As if each fallen leaf, summered and spoken

    Becomes, a petal after winters turn”, this one’s my fav!

  2. On Faith

    Autumn’s leaves, falling, with the cool breeze swing.
    White clouds in sky’s blue, find themselves flowing.
    I ask them, “where to?” silent, they know not!
    But faith within, O! Yes, they are ‘knowing.’

    Thus,

    From the well of Being, words rise – glowing.

    ~

    Uncertainty, doubt, scepticism — when rooted in love: it is the oh so graceful hand revealing the face of ‘knowing.’

    Surrendered In love, we grow.

    • My hunger feasts
      On the fruit of your flesh,
      Never satisfied
      My scent follows from this,
      A ripe star lingering Northward,
      Great pools of your soul
      A wild thirst, where faith
      Become a tranquil call
      Beneath a naked crescent sky.
      I fling myself, everlasting
      Under this silent ceiling,
      Knowing, now a lamp in my sleepy hand.

      • In your dark eyes I see a lamp,
        Oil of love breathing heavenward
        A soft flame showing,
        Dancing in the wind like feathers,
        Swaying like leaves in the hand of God,
        Scribing with heart juice
        On the face of this moon
        Walking silent amid white clouds,
        Crowning a morn sky, light-blue.
        Gazing upward I hear your silence
        Pouring from ponds filled with grace.
        Closing my eyes, your hands bathe,
        Oh these still waves they ripple
        Through my face and lull my eyes.
        I sleep, faith-filled in your arms.
        Salt and tears, clouds of laughter
        Seep through my skin,
        Evanesce in your breath,
        These are the flowers and leaves
        Of a past now surrendered
        In your garden, interred in your chest.
        Night twists and turns on starry paths
        And, hearing your divine voice
        I wake from my life’s deepest slumber,
        Flowing with a vigour like that of the river,
        With eyes blossoming to fullness
        Known only to flowers beholding the sun.
        Your voice, salat of dawn rousing the sleeper:
        “Come, oh Beloved, upon the yielding of my soul
        Your longest fast, break.”
        I pluck your fruits like ripe stars from heaven
        And I eat, blessed in knowing.

  3. YOU have a new FAN! I am awestruck! Your words intoxicate! I haven’t been able to really write much of anything decent lately but, you have inspired me to pick my pen back up. Thank you for that. Truly, thank you. I am following!
    Hugs
    Kellie

  4. Pingback: Third Sunday Blog Carnival: Volume 1, No. 3 « Third Sunday Blog Carnival

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