by Richard Godwin
What do I know
About the perfume of midnight cemeteries
Or the blood rose
With no thorns at all
What do I know
About the hand that touches me in the dark
And stops my blood beating in my veins
Or the ice in my ear
When I hear an avenue of hummingbirds
The sounds they make full of the colour of their wings
What do I know
About the hidden desires of my
Loved ones whose faces change in twilight
What do I know
About the veins that trace a journey on a leaf
Or the hidden energy of air
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Rarely does one find a writer who is ambidexterous in the sense he can write poetry and fiction equally outstanding. Richard Godwin can, over and over again.
ReplyDeleteSalvatore Buttaci
author of Flashing My Shorts
chillingly fine
ReplyDeleteWow You've blown me away again. This captures them perfectly.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely Gorgeous and I agree with MJS, chilling to say the least.
ReplyDeleteThese words look like they’re questions, but they feel like answers...
ReplyDeleteAnd thinking about what Sal wrote, I suppose that explains your ability to bring to life anything, in or out of existence, in any form or genre.
This has a distinctive hum to it. It is lovely, mysterious and scary. I think what got me the most was
ReplyDelete"Loved ones whose faces change in twilight" combined with the hummingbirds wings, and for some reason it gives me shivers all the way down to my toes.
As always, your thoughts are deep, and your words real. Excellent poem.
Such knowledge
ReplyDeleteis better left to Just Knowing... as you capture the pieces that fit, to make it Just So!
Denise Douros
Mr. Wm. Blake would be proud to meet you Richard. You and he ask some of the same questions. Questions that teach as well as query.
ReplyDelete