Unfinished

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I’ve survived by winter wood alone

Lived on dreams of a waiting heart

Kept that numbing beast out beyond

Lonely face pressed against panes ~~

A beautiful pelted animal lost in cold tides

Of crystalline ice ~~~

Oh my Heart is a cold bird yearning yearning!

Flames throw out ash roses from the wood

Black paper I pluck as they float by tender,

Corsages of my heart they would fill a field

And lay down the wild grasses to mourning!

Shivering grosbeaks come to sit

Oriental calm brooding in black and yellow

White fog holds me in meditation emptiness ~~

Would it soothe my restless soul as it cracks

Like the gray under-belly of fire logs

Flames writhing my longing upward!

I need my soul to be a fiery nest of pine twigs

From which birds fly up hatching sun cones,

Bright and freed to keep away endless cold ~~

Instead I find a grosbeak frozen to night’s cross

Stiff body to cremate in these flames

Dream a satin comforter criss-crossed with hearts

Lovingly to lay with warm arms around You.

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~ by blueangelwolf on February 23, 2014.

5 Responses to “Unfinished”

  1. Lucky would the person be to lay on that satin comforter being held and holding you… Lovely poem and sentiment you share! thank you for sharing them! šŸ™‚

  2. i find myself drawn to mournful and melancholy poetry,
    i especially loved this passage;

    Flames throw out ash roses from the wood
    Black paper I pluck as they float by tender,
    Corsages of my heart they would fill a field
    And lay down the wild grasses to mourning!

  3. The wood is the fuel of desire, as long as the wood is there, the fire is there, along with the smoke , consumed and blind we die like the moth .
    Until we recognize by the pain, the struggle is within ourselves to encounter love. The fireplace will always exhaust the fuel of the material world.
    Which then shall you chose , the eternal light within or the fire of desire?

    Your poems are Brilliant.

  4. For some reason I thought you were relocating. Great nature mystic poetry as always.

  5. My favorite line in this “my Heart is a cold bird yearning”. All shivery. Keep writing. Alice

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