by Max Bouillet
I'm open to falling from grace.
Here I am
spinning thread from
the souls of dead angels
to sew her heart together again.
Filaments of angel stuff
catch in the stitches
as the smile slowly returns
to her soul.
A kiss and hug
and I send her on her way
as I pack for my journey.
(Hunting angels takes time
and I dont know
how quickly shell return.)
Author's Note: For a special friend that recently sent me an email to let me know I was missed.
Posted on 11/28/2005
Copyright © 2022 Max Bouillet
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Laura Doom on 11/28/05 at 04:30 PM|
No doubt she will return though, even from 6 underground :> Dead angels - presumably have exorcised their rights to immortality (in favour of prolonging love in the living :) Hmm...I guess angels, like beauty, are in the mind of the beholder...a pleasure to read you anew Max.
|Posted by Graeme Fielden on 11/29/05 at 01:39 AM|
A nice tribute, Br Max. It is good to see you back: with angels, gods, and fairies and tow...
|Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/29/05 at 02:19 AM|
You have angels on your mind, the human kind I am assuming. Poem reflects being sensitive to others hurts, desire to right wrongs. Packing for a journey suggests you want everything to be all right so you can be free to leave.
|Posted by Maryellen Lebeda-Parra on 11/29/05 at 08:58 PM|
wonderful as always max ... we all miss you when you are gone. someone is lucky to have you as a friend
|Posted by Christina Bruno on 11/30/05 at 12:50 AM|
max this is elegent succint and beautiful