From the mud came green, obstacles of life
and its suffering,
a fresh series of footprints not tethered to darkness
and those honeyed words
leaving the world behind in its wake;
tell me, what the riverbed said to make you forget?
Honest truths are generosity of graphite clouds,
or so it’s believed,
clear crystal blue that reflects when we pause to
sigh—I’d exchange my dreams
a thousand times
for the slightest chance that restless soul is awakened
with a hint of wanderlust
in search of deeper meaning on a cold morning;
you see,
sometimes we are meant to walk past the
riotous blooms and
sing the song of bristles instead—
a realization
that occurs when we spend time knowing ourselves.
Bind my wrists with silence golden,
it’s like the odor of French perfume woody and floral,
here autumn resides
slowly stirring awake,
liquid thick query bubbling in throat, “is it better
to postpone or presage?”
But I’d rather the hours lead the way,
white mountains,
the once skeptical heart now savoring its surroundings—
as if it came from inside the body,
its many chambers,
as if it required a language to speak to it.
Photo credits: “Riverbed at Ennerdale,” Fay Collins Art.
Sarah hosts at dVerse where we revisit a prompt on Fay Collins and
pay a tribute to her. Come join us! 💝
Posted for Poetics: “Fay Collins revisited” @dVerse Poets Pub
44 Responses
Love the beginning of the poem… how everything grows from the mud… as life, we just have to nourish it and beauty will grow.
Thank you so much, Bjorn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
sometimes we are meant to walk past the
riotous blooms and
sing the song of bristles instead—
I love this, Sanaa. There’s a great sense of movement here, We travel through the painting with your words. Beautiful.
Thank you so much, Sarah 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
(and thank you for the glorious prompt) 🌹
So much to love here, Sanaa!
‘clear crystal blue that reflects when we pause to
sigh’
I love how the enjambment works to slow the pace of the poem down here, and the conclusion is breathtaking ❤️
Thank you so much, Ingrid 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
THIS is so quotable, “sometimes we are meant to walk past the riotous blooms and
sing the song of bristles instead” ♥♥♥ You are a mystic who infuses wisdom in each verse!
Thank you so much, my dearest Tricia 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Beautifully expressive, Sanaa, and I loved this line: “But I’d rather the hours lead the way,” which seems to me to capture the essence of the painting and the poem, an affirmation of life in all its contrasts.
Pax,
Dora
Thank you so much, Dora 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
It is on the 3rd line that one realises one is reading a masterpiece. “a fresh series of footprints not tethered to darkness” … but just as I was recovering from the impact of your words along came the others, a few quoted above…what a pleasure it is to read such poetry….what a pleasure…..and when I say recovered, I meant recovered from being deliciously hit by the power of what is being said/how it is being said. Is SO interesting how your poem goes so well with Faye’s painting, almost like they belong together.
My goodness.. that is such high praise! Thank you so much, Ain 😀 so glad you enjoyed it! 💄❤️
A very rich and detailed response to this gorgeous painting. You change course several times in the piece, and it left me a bit off balance. I like “a fresh series of footprints not tethered to darkness”, and “bind my wrists with silence golden”. For me, though, an almost dry riverbed is height of summer, still many warm days before the appearance of Fall.
Thank you so much, Glenn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
This is simply splendid, spellbinding — a romance of the heart and of the mind. Such rich vision you paint here Sanaa, invigorating, liberating… 🙂
Thank you so much, Rob 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Definitely, this one to return to and savor. I am bookmarking it. So many beautiful images, but the languages at the end that are inside the heart, my favorite.
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, K. Hartless 😀 so glad you enjoyed it! 💄❤️
“a fresh series of footprints not teathered to darkness” pulled me fully into this wonderfully written poem.
Thank you so much, Roger 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Love the journey this takes us on and that line ‘tell me. what the river bed said to make you forget’ is a powerfully provocative question.
Thank you so much, Paul 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
this reads like a delightful meditation in and about Fay’s art, lovely!
Thank you so much, Kate 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
So many beautiful lines, ideas, and observations here: “riotous blooms” “from the mud” “bubbling in throat” and “graphite clouds”
Thank you so much, Ron 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Wow. Great poem. This line is incredible: “Honest truths are generosity of graphite clouds” – graphite is the perfect word for those clouds!
Thank you so much, Philip 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
‘Bind my wrists with silence golden’
Lovely line.
Thank you so much, Jane 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
This was a great poem. Fantastic use of imagery 🙂
Thank you so much, Veera 😀 so good to see you 💄❤️
“Honest truths are generosity of graphite clouds,
or so it’s believed,
clear crystal blue that reflects when we pause to
sigh—I’d exchange my dreams
a thousand times”,
These lines spoke to me. Needless to say you are a splendid poet. 🙂
Thank you so much, Kitty 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Following the landscape–a good teacher.
Definitely 🙂 thanks for stopping by, Kerfe 💄❤️
“sometimes we are meant to walk past the
riotous blooms and
sing the song of bristles instead—”
I relate to this… straight to my heart!
Thank you so much, Dana 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I particularly admire the close of the 2nd stanza ~
Thank you so much, M 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
you eloquence never fail to amaze me, Sanaa. your chose of words is always elegant and vivid. the song of bristles! ah!
Thank you so much, Rosemarie 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
So beautiful, Sanaa! 💕
So many lovely lines. This is the first one that stood out for me: “tell me, what the riverbed said to make you forget?”
I love the question “is is better to postpone or presage” that liminal feeling, a threshold to savour in the moment.