Gershon Wolf Poet Free verse

Delicate Strands of Sound

Flanked by violets and similes
   in a drafty den she pens
away fleet hours, pensive, concocting
   exotic brews of rarest essence

and scents, honey-tipped phrases
   in secret rhythmical chants  
known only to denizens of her
   innermost sanctum, where she,

perches, chin in hand, arranging
   delicate strands of sound, eliciting
murmurs from those gathered, who lionize her
   though she remains as the dust underfoot

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Caren Krutsinger October 30, 2019 at 9:43 AM I love this word "lionize" - I am going to have to borrow it! Truly a wonderful magnificent terrific poem. Gershon Wolf October 30, 2019 at 1:14 PM Thank you for your truly amazing, awesome, incredible comment. ~ The Semi-cowardly lion

Kurt Ravidas October 29, 2019 at 1:12 PM It's not dementia, it's a riddle. Sometimes even the author doesn't know who she is. Such is the nature of riddles) Gershon Wolf October 29, 2019 at 4:19 PM Truth be told, my friend: Re-reading this one, I have no clue as to what I was trying to accomplish with this one! Strikes me as abstract art! Best wishes, Gershon

Bobby May October 29, 2019 at 6:41 AM You write some amazing poetry Gershon but, slow down I can't keep up with you, lol Gershon Wolf October 29, 2019 at 11:44 AM Actually, I didn't write this 'amazing' (to quote you) poem at all; my pen wrote it all by itself. (LOL)… And as for slowing down, don't worry. My wife says that dementia is going to catch up to me any day now. ~ Roadrunner