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A Collage of Light

On a wisp of wattle
that cradled in the fig,
a dreaming began
as sleep draped veils
to nurture a gleam into 
dazed eyes,
as mantles of moonbeam
wreath temples
I fell to,


A gathering cluster
that saturated all reality,


a sculptor with tool
set about carving
a bird of paradise
as form finished
it flew away


A dove birthed
from a painters brush
and wiggled free to 
splash the canvas
of black 
staining its feathers
in obsidian


from centurions
I am gifted a 
mariners compass,
they lead me to three rivers
setting sail
like the hunter after hare,
the cross and crown
my guiding lights


my keel wedged 
on flying fish,
once soaring
times hand pulled
me to dock with face


now,


so weary I sleep
endless tomorrows,
and will drift awake
as the phoenix
morphs to crane


infinitesimal stars
will emblazon my hair
with constellations
as I regather from 
the comforts of reverie


—-


and every now and then,
seeing miniature worlds
on specks of wonderment
will remind me,


that I am just dream-weaving
through southern lights

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 12/11/2009 8:42:00 AM
On a wisp of wattle ... God help me to sing like this again ... the alliteration, the imagery, the visionary maturity, the cosmology of self and the journey on words ... congratulations Jayne, this is about you, for you ... may your gift rise forever
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Date: 12/10/2009 11:05:00 AM
Jayne, i loved to study the sky at night, and wish i could touch the stars. And if i could i would be taken somewhere else >> James
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Date: 12/9/2009 9:52:00 PM
Sorry forgot to mention with this one ... all the things in this poem are constellations seen from my australian Skies .... the Hare the hunter the keel the bird of paradise the sculptor the painter ... they are all constellations in my southern skies ... and the only thing earth bound is me lol kind regards Jayne
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Date: 12/9/2009 11:17:00 AM
Many driftings in half conscious mind as falling into a more at depth sleep, would fit this poem for me perfectly Jayne. This is what this poem caused me to think of. Sincerely, Love, Moses
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