bajanblueOPSpeightstown, Saint Peter Barbados3,724 posts
Words come up and stumble on the threshold of my lips they dance, impatient, tapping on my teeth with pretty fluted serif edges pulling colours from the sea, the sky from the me myself and I that ache to weave fine silk from half-born, limping concepts that wilt, unsaid in darkened hallways cluttered up with thought with visions of some future drawn by strange impatient hands that do not know the pause between two heartbeats is forever the place where love is made, sins are forgiven, breath taken for the smile to mark the coming dawn.
"pulling colours from the sea, the sky from the me myself and I that ache to weave fine silk from half-born, limping concepts that wilt, unsaid in darkened hallways"
This is my favourite part. It speaks to me of our depths and the frustration of trying to explain the unexplainable.
You say things so beautifully and so profoundly though, so you must have found your way through the labyrinth to be able to give it voice in poems like this.
bajanblue: Words come up and stumble on the threshold of my lips they dance, impatient, tapping on my teeth with pretty fluted serif edges pulling colours from the sea, the sky from the me myself and I that ache to weave fine silk from half-born, limping concepts that wilt, unsaid in darkened hallways cluttered up with thought with visions of some future drawn by strange impatient hands that do not know the pause between two heartbeats is forever the place where love is made, sins are forgiven, breath taken for the smile to mark the coming dawn.
Im speechless - and in that place where love is made, truly
bajanblueOPSpeightstown, Saint Peter Barbados3,724 posts
StressFree: Oh...I thought it was about a couple freshly in love coming togehter as they are for that first kiss....
After your first post I took another look at what I had written, because others frequently see layers of information that I am too close to to interpret immediately and it was interesting that your reaction was so far removed from my perceptions and intent.
This comment suggests both of your posts are more verbal flags indicating your presence than critical commentary.
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and stumble
on the threshold of my lips
they dance, impatient,
tapping on my teeth
with pretty fluted serif edges
pulling colours from the sea, the sky
from the me myself and I
that ache to weave fine silk
from half-born, limping concepts
that wilt, unsaid in darkened hallways
cluttered up with thought
with visions of some future
drawn by strange impatient hands
that do not know the pause
between two heartbeats is forever
the place where love is made,
sins are forgiven, breath taken
for the smile to mark the coming dawn.