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Jul 11, 2011
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The Singing Bird whose name I do not know
Each morning it rises
Out of the mists of dawn
And begins to sing
Its immortal song
Leonard
Dawn peeps
from its broken shell
sprinkling spring freshness
that embraces the earth
in an ethereal symphony
Such sweetness
could never have poured out
of Orpheus flute
and Stravinsky could only have given us
second hand
The anointing
is but the poultice of God’s touch
Deep beneath the layers
of my egocentric life,
a new life stirs -
a fresh shoot springs up
to harvest the sun
God
has set in motion
a brand new day
About This Poem
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Kailashana2
14 years ago
Listening to our listening?
Listening to our listening? Love the title, Leonard, you have woven a beautiful new day
~A
Leonard
14 years ago
Thank you Anna
Always a pleasure hearing from you.
Cheers
Geezer
14 years ago
Brilliant...
I am reminded of the mornings, that I hear a bird that I have never seen. [Let alone, know it's name].
I have heard this bird for many years, all through the summer, in the early morning hours. Although I have striven to catch a glimpse of it, I never have managed to see this elusive little feathered warbler.
A mystery that I might never unravel, but one I am happy to ponder, as long as I keep hearing his voice greeting the sunrise. You brought this poem to life with your choice of words, and the way you have linked them together. Great job, ~ Gee
raj
14 years ago
Leonard
your vision speaks through the words of this write...and the words create a picture what a naked eye cannot see...