Monday, November 12, 2012

Beyond

Oh, leaping heart, frisky
                            flitting like birds from
                                            branch to branch, on a primrose path,
                                                 never pausing long enough to truly
                                                                                      see the new,
 blue wild or hear the lyrics of the  brook; her come away tune.

    Oh,
       heart, these days, your own song rings hollow, listless,
                              searching phantom pleasures
while beyond these walls you've built, there's glory.

Fly beyond.
Fly high, beyond the bounds of rocky confines of mutable moments.
Perch,
      heart,
lofty and noiseless, listen to the silence of your desire.
                   Soar above dry land, dry seasons.
Flight is yours
but fly.
 Rush no more.
Although, the land is safe,
you were born for air.

At Jingle Poetry and The Sunday Whirl

6 comments:

  1. Love your poem especially the last two lines!

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  2. love the construction of your poem...

    uplifting spirit.

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  3. "frisky flitting" made me smile. This is a strong contribution. Thanks for playing!

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  4. being born in air,

    interesting ending line.


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