Tuesday, July 22, 2014

For the umpteenth time…

 Kay Griffith
Art by Kay Griffith at Amsterdam Whitney Gallery

For the umpteenth time
the stars 've stretched
to touch with the sharp
edges the warm waters
of safety lands.

Spreading wet wings
to dry in day’s
mercantile spirit
I hide the vulnerable
smile
under the pillows’ pile,
prepare for the voyages
by heart’s mind,
I accept shapeless abstract
surreally thrown
on the canvas towel
in disgust of Resurrection… 


Shared with PU Poetry Pantry

17 comments:

  1. Enjoyed. Everything continues over and over again sometimes too many times☺

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  2. Back around it will come no matter what, unless everything goes boom I suppose lol

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  3. Read it several times and loved it each time - there is lot's of treats both on and beneath the surface - love the artwork as well, it and your poem compliment each other perfectly . . . . ~ Eddie :)

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  4. Good grief! I hate it when that happens :-)
    Very interesting perspective.
    You're always a wonderful surprise.
    ZQ

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  5. I like the preparation for the journey ~ Your words are always full of surprises, I agree ~

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  6. You have used contrasting images to great effect in this poem.

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  7. "I hide the vulnerable smile under the pillow's pile" really strikes me.......good one, humbird!

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  8. You always find a way to share ideas in a new way!

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  9. That first stanza is amazing! Loved the whole poem and images :-)

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  10. "Oh not again, what is it to be this time" I hear you say and as your poor spirit prepares for another round!

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  11. the second stanza begins with a pearl of wisdom...love the artwork...

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  12. You are able to weave some interesting poems with twists and turns
    always a new perspective.

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  13. Waking up can be hard some days.

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  14. There is really nothing new in the world, just the clever recombination of the old in a new way. The ability to do that is the gift and essence of being human.

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  15. Aiieee. Such frustration, but yet it must be joy to know that life continues or begins again. What would you be? a softer edge, mayhaps?

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