"Let's say there was a little girl, and from the time she could understand, she was taught to fear... let's say she was taught to fear daylight. She was taught that it was her enemy, that it would hurt her. And then one sunny day, you ask her to go outside and play and she won't. You can't be angry at her can you?"
(Great Expectations)
and have a wonderfullllll week! And a poem by Blogger “thalassa”
Demetrios the Traveller
speak to me memory the language of seagulls behind the hills behind the sweating sight beds of sand tatooed by sudden wind curved and open crevices particles of the skin of earth with snake linear language where the path into the cliff blue turns white foaming air seeped through the stones ethereal as moans of this dry land disconnected lay dormant following the wind of others elevated lyrical images of islands in high sea half to light half to gray _darkness strains of memories
wave rolling wave to become equal in motion... in distance into my mind to capture the essence aqua choreography the barren chest of isles producing depth not seen by my sweeping cantos of self unity sounds magical lured by the cardiac tunes murmuring the language of skin and love songs
speak to me speak to me memory, the language of seagulls
2 comments:
bella Italia
bella Venezia
forte bine
and
have a wonderfullllll week!
And a poem by Blogger “thalassa”
Demetrios the Traveller
speak to me memory the language of seagulls
behind the hills behind the sweating sight
beds of sand tatooed by sudden wind
curved and open crevices particles of the skin of earth
with snake linear language
where the path into the cliff blue turns white foaming
air seeped through the stones ethereal as moans of this dry land
disconnected lay dormant following the wind of others
elevated lyrical images
of islands in high sea half to light half to gray _darkness
strains of memories
wave rolling wave to become equal in motion... in distance
into my mind to capture the essence
aqua choreography
the barren chest of isles producing depth not seen
by my sweeping cantos of self unity
sounds magical lured by the cardiac tunes
murmuring the language of skin and love songs
speak to me
speak to me memory,
the language of seagulls
Thanks, Demetrios, for your visits and for the beautiful poem. :)
Post a Comment