Breath on Glass

that
passion
is a whisper
not a gong
I know too well
even as I have screamed it
naked
to the wind
stifling its true bloom
covering my blush
with silent retreat
longing for the remembrance
of a faint breeze
that carries
yesterday
that blossom
before
the setting
sun
fades mist
into the darkness

 

Reviews

[Michael Lasalle]

kris, there is an enrapturing gentle
desire flowing in and through the meaning
of this heart touching work of passion,
creating a powerful effect, the opening
has an immediate impact on the senses,
and what follows, to me, tells of the
spiritual need for solace, liken to a flower
needing sunlight, depthful deciptivness in
artful fashion, a clear cut vision of honesty
and realization, beautiful, peace, mike

[J.P. Bristow]

yes yes yes this is such great art.....I loved the lines " even as I have screamed it, naked".....you really are reaching a new level with the writing you have shared here .....wonderful!!! I have left a note on your page.........you have truely touched me and this holds a special place in my heart!---thank-you

[Just Manoosh]

The true whisper of beautiful poetry, your piece resonates in style and talent. Very lovely, I loved all of it. Mx

[R. J. Dennis]

A beautiful, passionate, and sad poem. Very eloquent and simple, yet powerful. Great work.

[Alia]

One slight nitpick... no apostrophe in "its" as it shows possession.

This is exactly the kind of passion I'm looking for in other people. I'm going to add this to my favorites list and come back to it when people start sucking again. :)

Thank you.

Alia

[Me]

This is a beautiful poem. Your words are simple yet eloquent. The symbolism recalls memories of joyous twilight moments. Nice write.

~chad~

[Leah Simone]

passion so intricately woven as fine lace - open and delicate, fragile - a piece of art all on its own - yes, I agree - the fading flower in the sun - the fragrance of love dissipates and that process of struggling to have it fill us - is sorrow - so much sorrow.

This is a wonderful poem. I enjoy your voice and the way you haven't packed the poem tightly but let it have space to breathe and marinate in our minds.