Between the Places
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By catherine poarch
- 1108 reads
The air is bright with diamonds,
made of morning, made of frost,
and chimneypots make jigsaw shapes
against the inky sky. Lost thoughts fly to the treetops,
singing out across the street
and nothing, for a moment,
on this roadway passes by. I walk beneath the lampposts,
wise old lampposts, bending near.
And briefly, in this place
between the places, peace is here.
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Comments
It sounds like the quiet of
It sounds like the quiet of early morning, a cold solitary bright morning, and the delight in that solitude and cold brightness comes over! and a lovely rhythm. Rhiannon
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Treasued moments like this
Treasued moments like this are always good to capture in a poem. I liked the idea of the chimneypots making jigsaw shapes against the inky sky, gives such a memorable scene of old Bristol.
Enjoyed your poem Catherine.
Jenny.
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Such beautiful images in this
Such beautiful images in this Catherine. Really nice to see another poem from you too
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This little gem of a poem is
This little gem of a poem is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day
Please share/retweet if you enjoy it too
Picture Credit:https://tinyurl.com/42k3ddts
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How magical your writing
How magical your writing always is! This one sparkles right from the start
"The air is bright with diamonds,
made of morning, made of frost"
your rhythm is like light bouncing off bright surfaces
and I loved "treetops/singing out across the street"
and I liked how you say "between" is a place, too. A special place because it holds peace, in the sparkling light
Beautiful poem :0)
Am longing to read your story, will be very special
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".. made of morning, made of
".. made of morning, made of frost.."
A beautiful, Zen-like poem with wonderful imagery. No surprise it was a Pick. Well deserved, too. Paul
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