Autumn's Lullaby 1

*** This was a quick poem written at 3:30 this morning. I'm tired and long for hot tea, some stitching, and a bit of rain. Instead, I wrote this rather nonsensical poem and will turn in. I'm not worried about the uneven rhyme scheme or any technicalities, really. I just needed to write. Forgive any spelling errors: I'm very tired!

Goodnight,
Lily

*~ Autumn's Lullaby 1 ~*

Gray mornings wet with rain ~
sweetly scented apocathary:
ease my pain;
(hot steam
in China glass,
bundle of yarn)
this day too shall pass
but regretfully for I
long for this Autumnal lullaby
to last.
Child's voice in mother's ear
no one else needed - leave us here.
I'll be your witness
I'll be your cathartic plan:
small fingers grasping mother's loving hand.
Ah wait, do you exist yet, dear?
I see you but only in my dreams,
ever-clear.

Chimney smoking
like incense and fog
I wear my heart lightly
like will-o-wisps in the bog:
dancing 'round travelers
weary and old
I open my arms now
to release the Gold
of this dark, dark morning
waiting for light
waiting for someone
to end this night.
Bring out the needles
bring out the cloth
bring out the candle
watch the dance of the moth:
so airy and gentle
he flutters and flies
whilst I sit here sewing
through Autumn's lullaby.

What do my words say
that I stitch through this silk?
A love poem or sonnet?
Keats, Rumi, or Rilke?
No they say nothing
nothing at all
they speak more of silence
and of small dreams grown tall;
they speak of a household
and a child in the womb
they speak of my dreams
of the depth of this tomb
where sadness lies buried
and hope flies around
and swirls through the eddies
of my Soul: this devout
murmur of praise
for the life that we covet:
for the gladness of living
and the sweetness of love.

So this hot tea is easy
on my tired, dry throat;
and this sampler is empty
of words so remote
from the Language of Love
that I just left it white:
the color of innocence,
the Keeper of Light.



~picture from photobucket of msbre26~

~picture from photobucket of wegie4~

Youth and Poetry in "Bright Star"

"I think young people are probably more poetically inclined. I think they ... really want to connect. Connection is what being alive is, and they want to feel sane and create a sense of themselves and intimacy with others ... which is what Keats and his friends were doing, too, with letters however. My advice ...would be exactly the same ... its just to educate yourself [and] really build up your enthusiasm so that it's higher than your fear."

~ Jane Campion, writer and director