I wrote this in my beginning days of writing poetry. It has sat in the left column of my website homepage for several years now. I've never submitted it. I honestly don't think it's the sort of poem generally accepted for publication, but something about it speaks for me and how I feel about poetry...so it stays.
On midnight's
blackboard
words emerge
fade...
Southerly winds
shift new words
into place.
The rains
plunge
wash
these words
earthward,
staining
your notepad.
Transmuted
by your magic,
a morning
rainbow
returns them
skyward.
By nightfall
a star forms.
Oh Holy Night,
the Virgins sing.
Pris Campbell
©2002
4 comments:
Wow Pris there is a wonderful spirit and fluid sensation here. If you don't find this up to your standard for a publised poem, work on it and give it back to us. You're right, there is someting here that is special and it is certainly too good to waste.
You can reach me at my work address which is russell (at synbol) kimep (dot) kz (without any spaces, of course) BTW, if you ever need to leave me a message and would prefer not to have to do it as a comment on my blog.
And thanks again for sharing this earlier poem with us!
Pris
I am not an expert, but the last two lines sing beautiful. Why not?
Really tight language and lines. Good piece, Pris. Thanks for posting it.
Thank YOU , Sam.
Post a Comment