Credit to: Joni Niemela
night sky is bathed in deep purple
mystery, while moon is sword dangling
between two mountains & broad river
alone I am not
hearing the calls of migrating birds
& stampede of thousand wildebeests
i prepare to travel west
where drum songs for the dead
echo heartbeats
of closing thunderstorm
Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads -Micro poetry. A decastich, a poem of 10 lines and Poets United ~ Thanks for visit ~
This piece holds mystery inside and external to the reader--beautiful write Grace
ReplyDelete'& stampede of thousand wildebeests' ~ magical line ~ 'heartbeats of thunderstorm' for drums - sound like a music piece. Encore!
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful photo! The purple sky is so beautiful when it happens (rarely) on occasion. And indeed the thunderstorm sounds oftentimes like hearrtbeats.
ReplyDeleteLove the photo and I can feel the storm.
ReplyDeleteReally special poem Grace :)
ReplyDeletecould feel the moments poised for the next happenings...beautiful Grace...
ReplyDeleteI was living this one, Grace.
ReplyDeleteWhen Tropical Storm Claudette came, she flooded our home in the middle of the night. We climbed out the one high window, me carrying the dog and a bag holding a few clothes, Mrs. Jim carried our daughter. We found neighbors having higher ground a few blocks up.
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There is something so special about the sky at night. This reminds me of a car-ride I once made through the desert between Los Angeles and Phoenix.. The sky was clear but on the horizon there was thunderstorms.
ReplyDeleteI can feel the beat of wildebeests hoofs on the ground. How great this poem reads.
ReplyDeletehearing the calls of migrating birds
ReplyDelete& stampede of thousand wildebeests
i prepare to travel west
One can certainly look forward to seeing lots of matters not readily available. Truly said Grace!
Hank
Like a powerful, descriptive painting of worlds beyond.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful nocturne... I especially like your reference to migration which creates a central motif in this short piece.
ReplyDeleteBoth beautiful and intriguing.
ReplyDeleteSuch a captivating write :D
ReplyDeleteMakes me want to take wings and migrate :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful closing lines..
ReplyDeleteI like the idea of being connected to nature, sky moon, earth, water, animals and remembered by way of man hand made sounds (drumbeats) mimicking that nature.
ReplyDeleteInteresting compass direction you chose as well Grace.
With nature aplenty one is never alone
ReplyDeleteMoon is sword dangling.... I like that :)
ReplyDeleteIt is good not to feel alone in our journey..perhaps where people may fail us..nature can lead the way...an insightful and philosophical poem
ReplyDeleteWhat wonderful and enchanting thoughts.
ReplyDeleteThe world breathes in this poem with its most natural and unforced breaths, and shows its face that needs no art to make it beautiful, yet somehow the art in this poem both enhances and slides along harmoniously beside it. I especially like the image of the moon hanging like a sword.
ReplyDelete"...i prepare to travel west
ReplyDeletewhere drum songs for the dead
echo heartbeats
of closing thunderstorm"
Deep and powerful imagery. Amazing lines.
Hauntingly beautiful especially the ending!
ReplyDeleteI love the imagery and action in this poem, can almost hear the wildebeeste. Very beautiful, Grace.
ReplyDeleteLuv the action of capturing history which the echo brings
ReplyDeleteHave a nice Sunday
Much love...
amazing.. love it, and the photo as well!
ReplyDeleteThe heartbeats of the storm....such a special and wondrous piece of poetry.
ReplyDeleteI love those last lines. So evocative of a prairie thunderstorm, just coming in.
ReplyDeleteIt could be the sun following the storm west loving the music she would not otherwise hear. How evocative and dramatic!
ReplyDeleteIt is those drum songs for the dead that often linger after a storm. the echo of thunder in the distant skies.
ReplyDeleteLove your evocative words - you took me there.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Closing thunderstorm. One ends, another begins. Beautiful. Happy Thanksgiving. As always, thank you. Have a fantastic week.
ReplyDeleteThe purple night sky is a beautiful sight after the sun dips but not yet sets.
ReplyDeleteI love the first line. And this really says it all: "alone I am not"
ReplyDeleteVery Zen for me, as you became the storm, giving it a voice & a heartbeat; yet you created mystery /where drum songs for the dead/echo heartbeats/. Wow.
ReplyDeleteI love the way you name a number...1000 just as you did in your recent piece with the river of 100 fish...I like that, it has an ancient ring to it. The pounding of feet and the thunder cause a wonderful sound quality to your poem, great work, Grace!
ReplyDeleteAwesome images captured in words that resonate the otherworldly quality that a closing storm seems cast ... something akin to spellbound, I think.
ReplyDelete