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A Summons
by Julie AdamsWe don't talk like we used to
not like breathing or dancing,
that lusty exchange of enthusiasm,
both kinetic and close
I guess back then we were open
we welcomed the wild world in,
two panthers, we tread boldly
sure-footed and curious
through the darkness
both outside and within
now only impatience crackles
between the smouldering embers;
our former selves, ashen
and overcast; muted grey
with pain and disillusion
I cling to familiar soundbites
Morning Glory memories, wide-eyed
in the lockbox of the mind
where my faith in love hides,
unseen, unattended
Perched upon a charred tree limb
like a Snow Owl shaman
I chant quiet prayers to the moon,
fan a smoke-signal plea for resurrection,
even a raindance I attempt
eager and enthused
all to summon the eternal phoenix
love 12/14/2012 Author's Note: I heard somewhere a certain amount of dissatisfaction drives what we desire.
Posted on 12/14/2012
Copyright © 2024 Julie Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 12/14/12 at 01:06 PM "I cling to familiar soundbites
Morning Glory memories, wide-eyed
in the lockbox of the mind
where my faith in love hides,
unseen, unattended"
Oh yeah...which is why i write poetry...a superb reflection on the banked fires of love, Julie, brought low by the viccissitudes of life.
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| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/16/12 at 03:42 AM Stanzas 4&5 knock my socks off - marvelous imagery, movement and purpose. Thank you. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/17/12 at 03:31 AM Seems to a lot of the time. Good, potent stuff. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/17/12 at 12:39 PM As creatively unique as this poem is, and a pleasure to read, I'm sure we all can relate to its subject and message in our own way. Thanks also for your comment Jewels on my Suffer The Children. Merry Christmas! |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 12/17/12 at 01:29 PM I love the wonderful imery here. I find total stark hinest in this piece. loved it- beautiful |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/21/12 at 12:21 AM As years progress, the Phoenix takes on water and drowns. Those crackles are memory kindling doomed to fail because a drenched Phoenix merely smokes and no matter how long we search for the flame, we only breath in the smokey memories of the past. |
| Posted by Gail Wolper on 01/01/13 at 05:31 AM
I cling to familiar soundbites
Morning Glory memories, wide-eyed
in the lockbox of the mind
where my faith in love hides,
unseen, unattended
wonderful imagery |
| Posted by Sarah Wolf on 03/08/13 at 12:01 PM So true. Nice write. I love the lines about the panthers. |
| Posted by Michael Faraday on 09/15/13 at 04:20 AM This poem rocks! Enjoyed it immensely!! cheers, m |
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