our broken circles
our tears
the spring we had
our tears
the spring we had
long imagined
-
now there is only stillness
where green should have thrust
its light, with a shiver
where green should have thrust
its light, with a shiver
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Roxana:
ReplyDeleteNear the chill, your light
green enables
always pushing from the non-quiet
your wonderful photographs,
and we will always imagine
springs that had not yet
and our real tears
our circles are broken, but perfect.
This was beautiful, though I did imagine the green would appear at the end. Ho hum. Perhaps we should be more careful in what we 'long imagine'?
ReplyDeletewith a shiver really did give me a shiver at the end of the verse, in between these silently sad images. Maybe your intent was not sadness, but it is what I felt (in a silent way)...
ReplyDeleteThe solution to her conundrum is so simple that even Niobe, who cried bitterly when her Nikon took a tumultuous tumble, which then required being dredged up from the Rhine River (lacustrine sediment and all--an unhappy circumstance for a delicate mechanism), and landed itself in a camera shop, an unappealing cavity under some sort of apothecary and owned by Otto von Doppelnamen-Doppelnamen, a synaesthete from East Berlin, could easily avail herself of the remedy--namely to keep preprocessing to a bare minimum, thereby exhorting the colors of her unreachable spring to trumpet their arrival.
ReplyDeleteah, seems you've still got a little Trakl in you yet, lassie.
ReplyDelete...everything merges with the night....
ReplyDeleteA snowdrop's tender promise...oftimes harshly broken when given the cold shoulder by an overbearing winter.
ReplyDeletehello beautiful Roxana, thankyou for another masterpeice.
ReplyDeletebeautiful words-now there is only stillness where green should have thrust its light with silver.
and the evergreen season of the soul will always be and this seems like a lull in life, where the two extremities of life have come together in a still profound beauty like the zen meditation that arrives at the center and refuses to give into despair neither extremity being allowed to overcome the other
and this in a way is connected to what I have been considering lately with reference to the colour white that white is used as a form of purity an exaltation of our passions of all the rich colours of our universe and yet white is often used to depict horror and is this because of its muted nature where individual colours are not permitted expression where existence has been strangled.
white- where the two extremities of life meet and its profound beauty is revealed.
thankyou for another beautiful voyage
sending you futuristic spring kisses come walk in the green fields of the heart and soul with me.come with me on a spring walk I know you will I read it in the tea leaves.wink and smile.
'Why so pale and wan, fair lover?'
ReplyDeleteatat de neatins,imi vine sa spun,tremurul,ca si petalele acelea,abia atinse de gandul nostru.
ReplyDeletenicicand primavara nu a fost simtita in cercuri mai largi decat acestea-poate de aceea senzatia de ruptura in cerc,el s-a extins...si cum strang toate acestea,inchipuirile noastre despre flori,totul in buchet:)
Oh, this hits close to the bone, but how could something so tender and subtle? The water droplets could have easily been my tears as well...
ReplyDeletethe snowdrop is the messenger of spring for what i know.
ReplyDeletespring will come, it always does! . . . with a shiver
of vulnerability in allowing it to be.
on another note, i like the new comment format!
thank you.
De fiecare data, de fiecare afurisita data cand intru pe pagina ta, realizez ca nu m-am uitat in jurul meu cum trebuie si ca nu am vazut ce era de vazut cu adevarat :)
ReplyDeletethank you so much for waiting for (my) spring with me, even when i don't have many words...
ReplyDelete