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| (c) Szabolcs Sipos. Click on photo to enlarge. Click here to see at 1x.com. |
Penplay echoes of playpen
The waters of our world know
nothing dries faster
… a child’s tears
Steeped in night, they ferment as dreams
sugared over on the morning pillow
… a child’s fears
Seeing his reflection in the clock
heart echoing the minute hand
… a child peers
When the robins from the nest have gone
there is no telling the songs
… a child hears
Compass awhirl in the before
softly unaware into the after
… a child steers
Blued secrets aching to be shared
are hushed now
… a child nears
Fleet hand of youth has gone missing
the clock a compass pointing to the churchyard from atop
… a child’s years
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| (c) Vitor Cid. Click on photo to enlarge. Click here to see at 1x.com. |
So lovely to see you again.
ReplyDeleteAnd this poem is fabulous . The top photo goes with perfectly.
Thinking of Mom this week of Mother's Day here in the U.S., I do what I always do: think of her as a child, always to the end. Her hands became aged, and beautiful, but she remained playful.
ReplyDeleteI like the rhyming refrain that brings the years round and round very well. The compass and the clock measure some things, and drive a lot of what we do, sadly. We are so much more.
wow. that is an incredible piece...i could feel the minute hands sweeping faster and faster as the lines ticked away...i like the repitition as well. remarkable...and good to see you again!
ReplyDeletenice surfacing lorenzo!!! the words bring together so much of what is essential about childhood. the photos are nothing ahort of spectacular! steven
ReplyDeleteLovely poem, Lorenzo, nicely crafted. The photos are also magnificent!
ReplyDeleteYes, spectacular images in the poem - as I've been coming to expect from your work.
ReplyDeleteLovely pictures too.
I especially like "dreams sugared over on the morning pillow". Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem; lovey photos.
ReplyDeleteGood to see you again.
ReplyDeleteThis poem reflects so much, including the observations and heart of the master poet who wrote it.
Selfishly, I wish I had written it. It is sublime.
Lovely rhythms, like a stately nursery rhyme.
ReplyDeleteHappy you are back blogging again---
ReplyDeleteEnchanting your followers with a delightful tender touching poem -- A poem that reflects that child in all of us. Beautifully written your words echo about the chambers of your heart and come tumbling out as "Child's Play"
Joanny
Beautifully told. Glad to see you back.
ReplyDeleteMissed reading you! But this piece was worth the wait. Tender, sweet voyage of life and death.
ReplyDeleteThe poem rings so true! Also, it reminds me on our kids giving us the impression of their hand on clay (when they were in kinder garden).
ReplyDeleteSweet and tender and charming!
ReplyDelete