Famous Last Line
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ORIGINAL POEM
Late dusk arrives again as a corner
in my mind’s eyes opens and trickles
of phrases holding me captive
beside the window : the heart is still
yet my body quivers with some kind
of need to etch the whispers brushing
against a tapping pane. And I reach for lyrics
like a musical recital of quiet alone- time,
when twilight's lullaby sways in abated cadence,
turning blank papers into a raw soliloquy
as fevered wrist begins to pulse from the hinges.
--- NEW POEM
As fevered wrist begins to pulse from the hinges,
misty vignettes glide, while swoosh of rain 's ink
bathes upon the sill's ivy lattice.
I reach for its nectar: this breath sipping
the language of words yearning to be born...
from my window, a gush filters through hooks
and shingles as lines bounce around to
to tumble into drafts of musings. In this
special place, I allow this grace of charm
to open my soul’s voice like an outpour of dew...
a promise to cruise unto unknown trails, enticed .
Somehow, late dusk arrives bringing a thrill
along my hands, ready to greet the beginnings
of a shower's melody... half-healed, half-wise.
Laura Loo's Famous Last Line Contest
3/5/2016
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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