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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

Date: 10/30/2019 9:43:00 AM

I love this word "lionize" - I am going to have to borrow it! Truly a wonderful magnificent terrific poem.

Gershon Wolf
Date: 10/30/2019 1:14:00 PM

Thank you for your truly amazing, awesome, incredible comment. ~ The Semi-cowardly lion

Kurt Ravidas

Date: 10/29/2019 1:12:00 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
Date: 10/29/2019 4:19:00 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

Date: 10/29/2019 6:41:00 AM

You write some amazing poetry Gershon but, slow down I can't keep up with you, lol

Gershon Wolf
Date: 10/29/2019 11:44:00 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