Delicate species:
So light and feathery
In the air
With filamentous thoughts
To touch the breeze
And call from it music
And the swishing
Of sibilant verse:
Its delicate fingers
To the wind’s instrument,
To feel and disperse
And cast its seed-spec progeny.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Dedicated to Emma Bullet https://emmabullet.wordpress.com
Like creepers
And tangled vines
Urging for the high light,
Bloggers speak out
With leaves of thought,
Search for every photon dealt,
Yearning daily taller
In appreciation’s height
For sunshine on the face
Of their creation.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Darkness shapes:
Defines green feathery fronds,
Allows light in to being.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
From the earth’s gullet
Gurgles a spring:
A damp throated chuckle
And breath
As moist as love
Seeps and clings
And an echo
Finds the nook
To be homely shadow.
A grotto of green
Coating beings,
A mist of epiphytes,
Sponge dwelling moss
And primordial simpleness,
Cups droplets clean
To reflect and magnify,
And hold spherical worlds
On silver, meniscal skin.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Not in the stone
Or the frame of the flowers,
Not in the lawn or the trees
Or the generous borders.
Only in the eye
Who perceives,
The I
Who perceives.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
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