night sky prayer
June 12, 2008 at 7:06 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 29 CommentsTags: kiss, love, podcast, poetry, writing
What joy there is in speaking into silence
in the absence of echoes where words
race away unremembered into the night sky,
a tumultuous cascade like long dark curls
from which stars sparkle like eyes
and sentences unfurl,
turn back twist then trail bare traces
of lips whispering arcane phrases
verbless round the subtle curves of space,
disappear into a soft fold in time
becoming yours, my love, these words
not mine,
(This piece has been podcast, by someone else, here)
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- The Australian Poet Laureate
- another quote from Robert Adamson January 31, 2010
- Three Quotes from Robert Adamson October 22, 2009
- The copyright question (2) October 7, 2009
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Oh my god Paul, I love this so much. It took me straight to how I felt the first time I ever fell deeply in love. I used to sit on the rickety back stair of my rented old cottage and chant to the stars about my exploding heart. Then when he’d come to me he would become the stars and the the moon and the universe and sometimes I wondered if I’d created him from my nightly incantations.
Thanks for taking me back there.
Comment by Simonne— June 12, 2008 #
“verbless round the subtle curves of space”
ahhhh, now that is just lovely and evokes imagery in my head full of passion and beauty.
I love the intimacy of these recent pieces Paul and they are so rich that reading them over and over keeps yeilding something new.
Comment by Lakota— June 12, 2008 #
This is super cool, i like it a lot. 🙂
Comment by ngetha— June 12, 2008 #
i don’t understand. it’s stuck somewhere in between the neurons and the processor of information. give me more, tell me something simple, something you.
Comment by aefiel— June 13, 2008 #
Thoughts race away unremembered too.
Nice write. 🙂
Comment by Tina— June 13, 2008 #
Delicious words, exquisite sentiment. It reads beautifully in a tongue tangling way, which shows the care and gentleness with which he is considering his thoughts. You manage to throw images with each line, keeping the flow and swirling the reader around till the close. Lovely, lovely stuff.
Comment by Mary P— June 13, 2008 #
wonderful rhythmical, riddle of whispered words of love. it’s complicated, beautiful, and not easy to understand on first read but it adds to the way it would be if you listened in on lovers talking to each other.
Comment by lissa— June 13, 2008 #
GingaPaul – this is your reminder about the blog party! Drinks are being served…
Comment by Lakota— June 13, 2008 #
the power of words and their subtle caress.. yes, please.. hallmark can’t touch it…
Comment by pieceofpie— June 13, 2008 #
This is lovely!
Comment by Taj— June 13, 2008 #
hey got the comment on the URL thingy..thanks
Comment by ngetha— June 13, 2008 #
beautiful;
Comment by Sumedh— June 13, 2008 #
Evocative this was,
I liked this one.
LK
Comment by Laurie Kendrick— June 13, 2008 #
beautiful
Comment by cocoyea— June 14, 2008 #
lovely almost a sonnet…wondering why not bring the last 2 words up for the end rhyme??? so am wondering about your choice here and what it means…hmm not mine…hmmn…hmmn…i will wait to see what the sage reveals…because i keep deleting my words
ha, I used to tag some poems, ‘almost a sonnet.’ This one has a structure, two parts, each five and half lines, each part with a slightly different pattern of rhyme.
Comment by artpredator— June 14, 2008 #
you know i’ve spent a bit of time here of late, but i rarely comment because nothing i say could do your words justice…i’m just stuck!
Comment by anonymum— June 14, 2008 #
ha ha yes i saw that yes
you should check out laynie browne’s book “Daily Sonnets” i would tell you the publisher but it’s hiding must be shy or maybe doing some yoga or taking a shower or reading a book to the kids
Comment by artpredator— June 16, 2008 #
awe, i fixed it pauls. im still such a novice blogger. now anyone can comment w/ links, thankyou. and to focus on the art, this poem is a dear. i am all there in the imagery: my lover and i tucked in the sheets; bended arms propping our heads up; facing each other…and the way conversation makes sound in those moments is really very comforting.
Comment by mrs. sarah OTT.— June 16, 2008 #
Paul, I love this..the words twist and turn and repeat in a pattern hard to capture..they run about so making pretty pictures on the walls of my mind..dern them. (smile)
Comment by nectarfizz— June 16, 2008 #
Thanks for visiting & commenting on my site. I’ve just started reading your blog and wow! I am head over heals for this piece, it’s quite a beautiful offering.
Comment by Kristine ~ La Lunatique— June 17, 2008 #
I am envious of the muse behind this piece of yours. Love moves in lovely ways, and this is perfect. You captured it with grace.
Comment by Amber— June 17, 2008 #
This piece has been podcast (read by someone else) here.
Comment by Paul— March 27, 2009 #
absolutely beautiful
Comment by Samantha— August 14, 2009 #
Wow – this is superb – I’ll have to pin this one up as well, so I can read it over and again. Night sky, space, time – certainly have a great power over humans – as it should be – we need to be put in our place.
Comment by Gabrielle Bryden— August 14, 2009 #
Undulations. That was the word I forgot first time around. Beautiful undulations. You are a master of sound and movement.
Comment by Narnie— August 14, 2009 #
I’ve been away for a while and it’s so nice to come back and read your stuff. You make me really excited about writing.
Comment by Sack Posset— August 15, 2009 #
This is so beautiful
Comment by cocoyea— August 15, 2009 #
i just read this out loud to my wife. i bet yr words have inspired more than one bout of personal private luverliness. does that make you the cocteau twins of poetrix? thanks for the repost.
Comment by jason— August 15, 2009 #
[…] In the absence of memory, of stability in time the coarse mechanics of grammar collapse into a scrapyard of conjunctions and gears, verbs asking where Machiavelli went with his velvet inducements to intent. There sunonhead dreams of Venetian palace intrigues to be conducted like impossible waltzes. […]
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