Words
walk humbly,
offering
themselves in place
of
their letters, protected
from
erasure or white-out.
I
pick up a word, carelessly
dropped
and disregarded;
in
my hand it feels smooth
and
cool, live a river stone.
Words
spill from my hands,
cascading
into streams and flows
of
other words, others’ words,
joining
wet stones on the sand,
slowly
eroded by waves, and rain.
I
pick up words on the sand and
send
them skipping across waves,
edging
into ocean’s surface sheen,
reflecting
glimpses of sun’s light
slicing
the day.
This
poem is submitted for Open Link Night at dVersePoets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph by Fran Hogan via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
5 comments:
skipping words across the water...
i like it.
the photo reminds me of snow on evergreen branches...like the ones i'm seeing out my window this morning.
ha there is so much to words man...love the last bit there...the skipping of words across the surface...of course at times as well we skip across the surface of words and forget their power...
Love the last stanza especially
some wonderful things you're done with words... oh, that little tongue can encourage or offend
beautiful poem, just beautiful...words are powerful, they are magic, they can heal, they can scar... we must be respectful and use the with wisdom and care... and spare spilling them inappropriately...holding them tenderly in our hearts abiding silence to accentuate their sacredness from time to time.
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