Evensong: Blue Poem by GORDON GILHULY
Evensong: Blue
evensong: blue
blue shadows climb the rounded slopes of the hills
like hands modelling the shape of a lover's thighs
shooting stars hurl themselves into the empty spaces
burn up just for the pleasure of it
I hold my eyes open for the light to develop on them
like a photograph
I reach for you whose fingers are a poem
whose blue eyes are as clear as the high note
on a violin
you wear this blue light like a song
I am become the bearer of words that ring like gongs
that tumble like flutes made of human bones
I hold hope between my palms
like the flame of the last match
through the fog in the harbour below
the world continually creating and erasing itself
the shape of a lover's thighs fingers are a poem the high note on a violin shooting stars, pleasure, like the flame of the last match All these very fine lines, i collected from your poem after carefully reading your poem. just loved reading it. you are original and so much passion you have in your words... thank you dear poet. tony
I am become the bearer of words that ring like gongs that tumble like flutes made of human bones I hold hope between my palms like the flame of the last match lovely lines of a beautiful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 11:58:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Now, that's a love poem! ! !
It would be an honour, Gordon!
Thanks, Richard. Good to hear from you again. Do you want to go ahead & post our masterpiece on your page?