Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Whiteness of Doves, Part II




Child with a Dove~Marc Chagall






Part II.
Dove's Song


I was white
as doves in snow,
soft as their ruby coo to you
in the muffled morning of latter days
when the misty world
wore winter but we
glowed still
a coral lantern
at the heart.

You brought the blue
to me, the open sky, then
cold dissolve and clutch,
wound your kelpen legs
around me in riptide's ebb,
down to the drag of dead-sand
white washed wild,
dove among gulls, mazed,
too wet to fly.

But sun comes after storm
and feathers dry.


~April 2013 






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11 comments:

  1. Beautiful!...and I love the rhythm here.

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  2. I was white...you brought the blue to me...How often is pain to come disguised by the emotion of soaring? It takes much to find the will to fly again when dragged from one's natural element.

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  3. nice...love the closure on this...its rather an emotional rollercoaster through your imagery...opening the sky up is lifting, dragged down to the dead sand then the release as well after the storm....cool continuation in this one hedge

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  4. this feels good on my mouth. it is a read-aloud for the sheer experience of feeling. i love your use of the word mazed in this and sense the wet, then dry. there is a transformation here, your colors and texture welcome it. wonderful poem.

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  5. I too read this aloud. You run the emotional gamut in these few lines, and like others, I love the closing lines:

    dove among gulls, mazed,
    too wet to fly.

    But sun comes after storm
    and feathers dry.

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  6. WOW! SPECTACULAR! Especially "and feathers dry." One of your best. I love it!!!!!!!

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  7. A new of many favorites. This is just breathtaking I thought - the ruby coo perhaps my favorite phrase among many - the dove among gulls too. Gulls are rather rapacious, also a word for fooling/tricking, though no tricks here just real artistry. Just lovely. The length also works so very well for you. k.

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  8. Your uplifting ending caught me a bit of guard. I'll wait with wet feathers and see if you are right.

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  9. This is so lovely- the sounds, the images- and the last two lines make it wise.

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  10. Beautiful. Reminds me of the anhinga, who goes fishing then has to spread its wings to dry. Beautiful.

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  11. The entire thing is beautiful, but especially those last four lines. Kinda took my breath away, Hedge.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg