Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Of paper wings

there is a road map
your eyes are searching

underneath white starched shirt
is your wild heart

no one hears it but you
pulsing river tide

hungry for smell of freedom
wide-angled as blue vein sky

and when the night
fragments your chest to water 

ask the bird for feather bone

ask the moon for verdant light

somewhere a corn stalk is ripening in its time 
you have wings

paper-light, fashioned out of tiny scars
the mirror doesn't show it

but you are beautifully 
made, always 




Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - We are writing about Joel Robison's Photography ~  I am pleased to be the pub tender for Poetics ~  Do visit and check out amazing images and words ~

36 comments:

  1. Oh to have wings (even invisible) so that we could soar...following the beat of one's wild heart!

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  2. The secrets that we hide.. the dreams are like paperwings, and sometimes it's the dreams that make you beautiful -- isn't it?

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  3. Not sure a bird would give up feathered bone haha letting ourselves soar is sure a need at ones feed

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  4. Our dreams, even the wildest, are part of who we are as they define in part who we might become as long as we do not break these paper wings.

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  5. lovely pice grace ...

    peace and love
    1Manview

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  6. grace, this is magic...and beautiful....so many great lines, seriously...
    when the night
    fragments your chest to water

    ask the bird for feather bone...is just one of the transitions that jumped...some surprising images as well...like, much

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  7. Dear Grace
    You make beautiful poems and I love the way you combine it with photos!
    It was a big pleasure!

    Hugs
    JetteMajken

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  8. "blue vein sky"..this spells freedom & wonderful images through out...

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  9. "underneath white starched shirt
    is your wild heart" - That's a powerful image. Beautifully penned. :)

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  10. the imagery here is gorgeous, just like the photo... love how you mentioned those scars the mirror doesn't show; the times where we fail and get knocked down are apart of our character as well. And how we handle those is either the wind that makes us soar, or the cage that keeps us from flying. An amazing write, Grace!

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  11. i like to believe we are wild underneath our domesticated selves..in fact i like to do it too..

    The wings are already tHere

    just waiting to be found..

    and floWn
    again....

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  12. Makes me think of all those dreams and hopes that so many of us hold secret...dreams unspoken...

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  13. wow..this is beautiful. Nice to read your words again.

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  14. Wings made from scars...very cool concept that what wounds us can also make us stronger and even allow us to take flight!

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  15. This is beautiful Grace. So many spectacular images and words. The pain made wings of scars. Wow. So lovely. Truly you have an amazingly poetic mind.

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  16. Lovely Grace, we need to accept who and what we are, then life seems so much easier to negotiate.

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  17. no one hears it but you
    hungry for smell of freedom
    but you are beautifully
    made, always
    So many beautiful lines, sigh,

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  18. Grace, this is a lovely poem and thanks for hosting.

    hungry for smell of freedom
    wide-angled as blue vein sky

    I think we are all a bit hungry for some sort of freedom..

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  19. such beautiful imagery that works perfectly with that shot.

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  20. I admire your ease with imagery. This is absolutely beautiful. :)

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  21. No one hears our wild heart - except if we speak it out here at dVerse Poets Pub, where others might listen and understand. Beautiful words to fit a very soulful image.

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  22. Grace, i echo everyone's perspective of your words. hopefully the image you see of yourself is like the one you just purged from within. lovely as always, mi amiga. 'grace-fully' written, 'grace-fully' said

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  23. Your words reflect the fragility of those paper wings and how easily broken they can be without care.

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  24. Ohhh... such haunting grace woven here. Poignantly beautiful

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  25. Aye if wings are made of scars then i am high most of the time.

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  26. Wonderful imagery, Grace--your poem soars on the wings of your words.

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  27. "paper-light, fashioned out of tiny scars" this makes me feel as though each paper where I bare myself (my scars) through poetry could be folded to form wings that help set me free. hmmm...

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  28. Yes yes, the wings, imaginary or real, have the substance of journeys mapped outside of what we know. Beauty is made of this, as is daring and sometimes death. This is my new favorite! Thanks!

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  29. "underneath white starched shirt
    is your wild heart"

    BeautifulYour words, like the photo that inspires it are intriguing in imagery.

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  30. Astonishing poetry to match the image, Grace! Great poetics...i regret i missed the link's expiration time.

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  31. Your descriptions brought me right to the picture and your poem really opened my mind to the paper winds literally. And wishing we could fly.

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  32. oh my lord, Grace - the beauty of this took my breath
    and when the night
    fragments your chest to water
    ask the bird for feather bone
    ask the moon for verdant light

    lines that will stay with me - just beautiful
    K

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