The Heart of a Woman

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The evening shadows painted the fields,
tugging deep at the heart’s smouldering
core. They ask me what I see, what I see
when I’m dreaming, let it not be obscure
let no one else’s name ring through these
sentences. Love is but purging fire.


Photo credits: Tumblr

Posted for ‘Quadrille #52′ @ dVerse Pub

And on ‘Tuesday Platform’ @ Real Toads

68 Replies to “The Heart of a Woman”

    1. Oh yes!❀️ Definitely πŸ˜€ thanks for stopping by, De ❀️

      (and thank you for the lovely prompt)

  1. “let no one else’s name ring through these
    sentences”… Such burning passion in those closing lines! Lovely πŸ™‚

  2. This reads like a prayer before bed. I like the ambiguity of the last line, which leaves me wonder if loving or the processing of being loved (or both) is the purging the speaker is referring to. Wondering is good…

  3. When you say, “They ask me what I see, what I see
    when I’m dreaming…” I think of it as a violation of something sacred, as if, were I to tell them, then I’d never see those again, neither in dreamscapes nor made manifest in reality. There is so much beauty in this poem, Sanaa!

  4. I just commented on Kim’s poem about Van Gogh, about his passion, and then come here to yet more of the same. I think fire tends, in so many ways, to be an effective metaphor in these cases.

  5. True love certainly does purge memories of other flames. Sadly some are fickle and love a smorgasbord of partners, yet others remain steadfast with their one true love all their lives. So clearly they have stoked each others fires mutually.

  6. Thank you, Sanaa, for sharing. We fellows need all the insight we can get on the tickings in a woman’s heart. From being married 45 years I have gleamed “Love” and “Help” fairly clean from Mrs. Jim.

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