Quietness of these Places

quietness-of-these-places Illustration of the Poem [ Artist ] Hernan Marin

Frise F Rose 30-1

Quietness of these Places

What a strange thing hiding in the dawn of this day
sky’s whiteness put his veil on flanks of the mountain
only the dark shadows of the trees pierce the mist.
What a strange thrill deeply troubles me in this day
through windows my eyes follow the waves of satin
that a cold wind draws on landscape lightly dismissed.

Nothing seems to reach quietness of these places

Comes always from far the deep complaint of a word.
Its resonance rises to heavens as a bird
sanctifies the human-loving of poetry
feeds the wild flower that perfumes the spirits free.

Nothing seems to reach quietness of these places

Do you hear the silence of tears calling the rain?
Its virtuosity resounds within my soul
to become silence’s absolute revelation.
Often the sobs of the poet spawns the bloodstain
to save illusions fallen into a sinkhole.
Miracle of a poppy field for redemption.

Nothing seems to reach quietness of these places

The word is refocusing slowly on my heart
to play poems of a symphony of Mozart
awaking the renewal of my bark… sapless
to ignite virtuosity a spark… lifeless.
 
Nothing seems to reach quietness of these places
 
What a strange thing has flourished in my mind today

 

2016 ~ © M2L – Manache Poetry

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35 réflexions sur “Quietness of these Places

  1. « Comes always from far the deep complaint of a word.
    Its resonance rises to heavens as a bird
    sanctifies the human-loving of poetry
    feeds the wild flower that perfumes the spirits free. »
    My English is not so good. These verses tell me hard. Thanks.

    Aimé par 1 personne

    • Thank you for this comment…. Merci pour ton commentaire qui me touche particulièrement.
      Yes, this is an important passage for me also … and I am glad that you put the light on (this is an important poem for me)
      I am sensitive that you share your emotion with me, with us, because my poems are intimate and come from the heart
      …And a review for me is a message that gives value to the sharing of my emotions
      Merci
      Oui, tout semble parfaitement serein … si tranquille

      Aimé par 1 personne

  2. Pingback: Quietness of these Places | moimarion

  3. Poppies »

    A child ran through the meadow on a sun drenched summer day
    And then he stopped his play
    And kneeled in a field of poppies.

    A man walked through my ghetto on a humid summer day
    And then he stopped to pay and he dealed in a field of poppies.

    Oh, flower of forgetfulness, just an hour away to the moon
    Take a deep breath if you are reaching for truth
    While you’re in the stupor
    The door knocks and death takes another youth.

    Poppies, red poppies…, red poppies…

    A boy I used to know, a boy I used to know who’s laughter rang to the skies
    Was a joy to behold
    Then I looked into his eyes, a look so cold, a boy who (rose on (??sorry))
    In a field of poppies

    Poppies, red poppies, red poppies, red poppies…, red poppies…,
    Red poppies…., red poppies…, red poppies…, red poppies…

    Aimé par 1 personne

  4. This is gorgeous really ! A high quality poem still! Wonderful and cold beauty for meditation, thank you
    I have written for « one day » but I confirm you are a great poet vertige. thank you for sharing your poetry

    Aimé par 1 personne

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