How do you interpret this piece? Share in the comments and see my view at the end of the post.
When the sky stopped moving
The stars drizzled down
I captured them like a child
In cupped palms, while
Some entangled in my hair
I tied a few with a bonny bow
In a hanky with crochet-edges
Then, I lay amongst the brilliance
Waiting for the sun to descend
I see this as an imagist poem with a life metaphor. When time is ready to halt, we can only stand by and gather memories and memoirs. We, then, patiently wait for the last sunset.
A lonely childhood Peering outside Tracing frost fairies On a chilly windowpane Whispering a wish For tender icicle streaks To fly far far away! Her dreams grow wings Like gossamer butterflies When she touches them Powdery dust crumbles In tiny, empty hands Flickering like stars That drive her destiny
I received some lovely feedback on this piece today.
When an exhausted orb self-immolates Tumbles towards a pale blue dot Tired lovers, puppets of destiny Make a wish upon the falling spark In dying moments, may the constellations Burn out their hapless horoscopes, And rewrite fates of the star-crossed
Sequined dreams In the sky As I stitch every teardrop Into the firmament For you to see when You gaze at the moon In my memory
It was a strong heart But feather-light it floated Buoyed by dreams, hopes Reaching the sky so blue; Tie it firmly with icy strings Till the cold permeates Freezes that tender love For warm and flush It tends to bleed red Staining all the world!
What colors do you see, In this unfinished portrait? It waits for blue From the waves To fill vacant eyes A contrary wind Reversed ocean To bring you back
A thousand miles away Stars in a distant array Speak to me of destinies That lend to life it’s mystery In luminous, fiery novas In sparkly, fallen crystals In comets singed to ashes The fate lines in our palms Etched in celestial splashes