twittering words scattered like specked dust
still have that capacity to pierce.
maybe to touch too in ways no one envisaged-
grains of rice glued together;
taking apart scatters, rendering it meaningless.
one heart can read another if they are in harmony,
in our case, we depart from norm. suspend it
in timeless space…my prose or poetry
as you deem fit with your narrowed vision.
not that it makes any iota of difference
if you shelved those into a corner.
“I will bottle it all, throw it into vast ocean”
From Read Write Poem prompt: meta-whatsits? I took the following and wrote the above piece.
A Gift by Amy Lowell
SEE! I give myself to you, Beloved!
My words are little jars
For you to take and put upon a shelf.
Their shapes are quaint and beautiful,
And they have many pleasant colors and lustres
To recommend them.
Also the scent from them fills the room
With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
When I shall have given you the last one
You will have the whole of me,
But I shall be dead.
Do not forget to ride the train...