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Wordweaver
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Love The soul believes
in everything
except what we name
impossible,
so my soul must have
seen you while I was
sleeping because
in dreams
you were always
there,
though I never knew
your name.
For half a lifetime I saw
the spiritlands in your
eyes though
I had yet to see your face,
and you were as
real to me as the God
of my childhood
before I touched
God through your words.
I sat on the shore
in those clean linen
summers and
believed the earth
watched through a
living jewel,
something like a lens
that sees Truth
magnified
and the Truth was
the dream of you:
first mist,
then an angel, then
a man.
And above me
--that sky!--
singed and scrambling
out to sea;
that color made me
believe you were
possible.
How many ways
did you say
"I love you"
like an acrobat of
words
whipping confections
out of air,
lotus blossoms from
the vacuum,
and chiseling
landmarks
in High Renaissance
gold?
But the most beautiful
word, there at the
bottom of each
masterpiece . . .
was your name.
Patricia Joan Jones
Oh this touches the soul and
Oh this touches the soul and the part of the mind that feels! "wordweaver" was the first account name that I used at the beginning of my participation in online poetry so many many years ago now. And when the internet company was still operating wordweaver was also part of my email address. The memory of it brings so much back! There is also a curious feeling as feelings go that others have likewise choaen to be called that. Tres interessant!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
I noticed you have a lot of
I noticed you have a lot of imaginative screen names on various sites. For some reason I never took the time to create a persona using a unique name.
I'm pleased my title took you back. Thank you for leaving such uplifting feedback.
Oh my! Your sterling,
Oh my! Your sterling, stellar turns of phrases give this poem as resonance that just vibrates off the screen and in the reader's mind. And why don't I list the memorable -hrases? Because I would end up writing almost poem's text here. Every time I read, or re-read, a poem, or poems, of yours, I am reminded that the sense of poetic thrill---which used to accompany my reading when I first began to read poetry---is not a relic of my past, but still a very real presence. It is just so particular, that only the finest of poets can stir it . . . and that means you.
Starward
Reading such appreciation for
Reading such appreciation for a poem is almost as fulfilling as writing it, and certainly motivation to create more.
Now all I need are the words to adequately express this ever-growing gratitude.