A mare among king’s chariots,
a lily amidst the thorns,
She is a dove hidden in cleft of rocks
sheltered from the morn.
But cast one glance upon her eyes,
and spice flows forth with wakened winds.
Come my love, to my field, he says,
Rise up and come within.
Lifted are plaits of ornaments
that shielded scars beneath.
Rent is the veil that guarded her
from vulnerabilities unsheathed.
She is a cluster of henna flowers
denuded by the Foehn,
A hearth dimmed, its fire quenched,
within which embers now burn.
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Categories: All Poetry, Life & Love, Poetry by Phoebe
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Really great line!
and spice flows forth with wakened winds.
Dear PuppyDoc, Thank you so very much for all your kind support of my blog. You have such a good heart. I live in Central Florida. I long to find the good hearted doctor that I remember from my old Mayberry in New Jersey. I live in a gated community and sadly if the doctor spends five minutes with a patient, the patient is lucky. The medical offices down here are all owned by huge conglomerate corporations. PLEASE never lose your love for people. PLEASE never lose your insight to the core of the human heart. You are such a blessed person. You remind me of the doctors that I remember from my childhood and youth. They had such a good, caring heart for their patients. Sincerely, Richard
Beautiful, lyrical poem. Good read.
🙂 🙂
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
A amazng poem by a talented writer. Please read and enjoy,
Powerful and amazing use of the word. The poem use of the languge took me in and held me to the last words. A outstanding poem.
Thank you, John. 🙂
You are welcome.