I want to write a poem
as simple as a glass of water
or as a piece of bread abandoned
on the table by a child
A poem transparent like a window
light like a winged ingot of lead and
yet heavy like butterflies among city lorries
A poem wrought of invisible words
Whose echo is heard for some hundreds of years
Murmuring like a river, forever.
—Stefan Baciu, “Stylus,” trans. Robert Austerlitz, Poetry Northwest
Notes: Poem Source: Memory’s Landscape. Photo: philippe conquet with mem 52
then write a poem with love with heart with soul…
Yes.
🙂
I would like to write a poem like Mary Oliver or Wendell Berry 🌻
I would like to write a sentence like they write.
Like you, I’m striving for a sentence here and there, pal. Can’t get too greedy…. 😉
So true….taking any scraps here.
Monday morning echoes should be less demanding, and lovely in their own right…like ‘coffee, coffee, coffee’…
Laughing. Lot of truth in that.
I felt myself too, in this poetical mourning touches… so beautiful dear David, Thank you, have a nice day, Love, nia
We have cosmic alignment across the distance. 😀
Exactly…. 🙂
my children and grandchildren and beyond are the poems that i’ll leave behind and will continue to echo forever.
Wow, now that is TRUTH.
[…] via Monday Morning: Echo, echo, echo… — Live & Learn […]
that is true and beautiful … very pleased with these words
It is!