There is an aching deep within my heart
that cannot be explained.
It wakes me in the middle of the night
and write these lines,
a kind of fishing in a great sea
I cannot find by day.
is not the search for something new,
it is not the need to find.
More it is the being pulled
by an unseen moon,
how small birds, when days get cold,
make their way across dark skies,
how a feather falls to earth
and a child, finding it, looks up,
why dogs pace back and forth
before a door
as their master turns for home.
Ah, this restlessness,
this silent undertow inside
that takes me back
to the hidden spring
where lions come to drink
why birds sing when they are all alone,
and the long ride home on an empty train
often feels like an arrival.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at April 23, 2012 02:50 PM
How you do inspire! But then you always did jump into life! Can't help but add my bit :-) Thank you Mitch!
Lest I Forget The Very Source Of My
Let me feel this heart break open to sound
to music playing everywhere, in everything
from birdsong to baby's cry, to laughter
to the bursting of seed pods, suck of the bee
the footfall of deer eating my garden, reeds sipping water on the banks of sheltered ponds
waves slipping over the bar drinking sand
the rustle and scrape of you dressing in morning
Let me see cloud feathers turn pink
the moon's wink, trees blazing in Autumn
the gray of distant rain out over a freshly
ploughed field, dirt kicked by wind, pain in a young man's eyes when misunderstood
see the way a smile carries everything higher
tears catching light, the tiniest of flowers radiant your hand holding mine when life is too heavy
or wonderful and words have shed their meaning
Let me know the secrets, the doubts, the hidden the insides of burrows, the nightlife of foxes
fear of the claw, grace in the wing, a sweet chord blended to a voice echoing the ache of life, the joy reveal the pattern of desires, the weave and woof of change, growth of a cell, the burn on mars
the simple give-take of love, lest I forget
the very source of my never-ending thirst.
Dynamite! Both poems!
Bursting imagery, life, light, song!
You sing well, my friends!
Like brilliant stars in the deepest night
Cool galaxies on Brahma's brow
Fresh rain water in the roadside ditch
Flowers, the blue spring sky!
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