Natural light preferable
to artificial – not the harsh
fullness of noonday sun
but softly filtered rays –
luxurious, inviting.
Love too, should be subdued,
gentle as a zephyr, not mythical
but yielding, mindful;
not worshipful nor boastful,
but comforting, warm
I am waning light,
the mistral wind wafting,
no longer a force of nature –
but smoke, spiralling,
vanishing into non-existence
And yet, even as shadows
spread, I yearn –
heart beating true,
not lost, not forgotten,
but withdrawn, humbled
passion mellowed
by toil of constructing walls –
grit and tar – scar’s long buried,
save the limping gait
of a ghost.
(Poem first appeared here July, 2018. I am resubmitting for Ragtag Community’s prompt: humble. Image from personal collection.)
Reblogged this on BrewNSpew and commented:
Sharing a poem by V.J., which addresses the prompt –
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Oh, I love this, V.J. I’m including in this week’s BrewNSpew weekly challenge – the prompt is supernatural.
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Thanks Eugenia! A perfect match.
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Yes, it is! 💛
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Lovely ❤️
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Thanks Elaine
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So much in so little words !! Great poem 👍
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Thank you!
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So much there– eloquent
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Thank you!
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Such a gentle rhythm, lovely!
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Thanks Heather.
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My pleasure!
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Oh, the yearning, I feel it.
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Thanks Liz!
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We are but dust and shadows, and occasionally spiraling smoke.
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Well summed up.
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Lovely poem. Good for the prompt. Really liked the creativity of the image, too.
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Thanks so much. Appreciate it!
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