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The Paper The Font The Pen

Poetry By: Ainsley Paige
Poetry



This poem was written several years ago during a time
of great distress while my son was serving in the Navy.
I had submitted it several days ago, and tried to access it
to show a friend, and could not find it in my portfolio.
The wonders of cyberspace. I am re-submitting it, so forgive
the redundancy, and also will post a webpage to link to soon
as my "under construction" site is ready. Thank you readers, and I look forward to being part of the booksie
community.


Submitted:Dec 9, 2012    Reads: 7    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


The Paper, The Font, The Pen

For J.

 

The Paper, The Font, The Pen

all speak

To the hearts of men

And beyond, above,

Impregnated in

Comes the words

Exposing thoughts and sins.

While seagrapes, an ungainly plant,

Do darken and forgive the dune

The coal and flesh of distant suns

Do mingle with the desert hues.

The mockingbirds in rank appear

Lined in equidistant shades

And through random cacophony of flight

Does seem

Is there compassionate order more than dream?

As if in answer to my mortal yearning

Three and then four sit close

Their feathers downy with youth

One missing a foot

Lacks the human trait of self-consciousness and shame

As when one of us has been scarred, burned, or maimed.

It is better to return without speech

We get lost in a gluttony of words

It is better to leave our hands with all of

Our inventions of dexterity

Trade it all for wings!

And FLIGHT SOARING

WITH THE SKYWARD VIEW,

CLOUDS FOR COVER

RAIN FOR SUCH A SHOWER,

WITH SUCH A VIEW

Reigns peace, and his close friend, power.

A wave crashes its applause,

As I perform

Mere poetic feats

Yet should I be the applauding

The majestic splendor of the untouched?

For is this not a new ocean today?

And will it not in its atoms

A thousand moonbeams, sunbeams collect

And as it's energy divert

We drink its songs

Ignoring them to our hurt,

I wish to feel a friend

To the tree in my yard

I wish the wildest creatures

My fair hello

And how those behind eyes bearing

Too much loss

Do I wish to cradle like a babe

HOWL with those YOUTH

Who have seen the unseen

In the shadow of the clay

And though frightened, do not weep,

But pray.

MAP

 

 

 





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