Dark sounds in a minor key.
At night tide I hear the flute sing.
Leave your haunted world, poet.
Follow the leap,
shimmer of trills.
Waves rising and
swelling with the sea.
Sparkling black sand tosses
a shell ashore.
Luminous and void
the pearl within.
At the entrance lingers the flute’s voice.
Sorrow in the musician’s hand.
Diane Déhler
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5 comments:
Lovely, Diane.
I enjoyed this poem and the blog very much. Good luck.
So beautiful! Lovely work :)
Haunted world, indeed. Very feeling, very visual, the poem itself is haunting.
And is that a mum in the pic? Something about the narrowness and spreading of the petals, stark white against the darkish background, goes great with the poem.
Very fine work.
William, Robert, B and A. Thank you for your kind words.
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