Curlews

Curlews

A Poem by Alistair (Ali)

"...What other sound could be like this?


Which other note could trespass on
to where the likes of tears are formed?


What else speaks so well
of wilderness, of loneliness?


Which alternate voice could manifest
this desolate deliverance?


Such trifling things as life and death
are kept in Curlew's calls..."


© 2012 Alistair (Ali)



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'What else speaks so well
of wilderness, of loneliness?'

i like the way this builds with the series of questions and the poetry so much everything that is the curlew but visualised with new insight. i just loved the ending. a poem wrapped in gauze with a wonderful sensitivity. i especially liked the second stanza. fantastic.

Posted 9 Months Ago


Alistair (Ali)

9 Months Ago

Thank you kindly.I am sure that you are familiar with Curlews ( I'm partial to a bit of Birding, mys.. read more
Absolutely awesome. I have one suggestion in the spirit of writer to writer...would you consider dropping the words "on
to " in this line..
Which other note could trespass on
to where the likes of tears are formed?
as:
Which other note could trespass
where the likes of tears are formed?

in my humble opinion the "on to" is redundant to "tresspass" which alludes to being on a place ... whatever ...it is still an absolutely awesome piece!




Posted 9 Months Ago


Alistair (Ali)

9 Months Ago

Thanking you muchly!!..and i do understand where you are coming from here!..the "on to" I had remove.. read more
I found this mesmerising, the sounds that encapsulate the wilderness and the most familiar sound is the call of birds, the echo of the curlew's call resonates deep into the heart of nature and your connection with that holds so much reverence and serenity. you paint the picture of an emotional symphony using the curlew, it was really touching for me.

Posted 11 Months Ago



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Added on June 13, 2012
Last Updated on June 13, 2012

Author

Alistair (Ali)
Alistair (Ali)

Tonbridge, Kent, United Kingdom



About
I write because I cannot paint. I enjoy the flavor of words, their subtle tastes and textures. I savor their spice and their sea salt. They are washed in on tides of thought, and i comb the strand.. more..

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