Sunday, April 19, 2015

Half My Heart

The River by Lisa Barnes


There's a new moon made of glass
hanging over the mountain,
and an alabaster shawl
draped along its slopes.
Nine swans huddle at the river's edge
and my solitary heart
is floating in the mist
along its shore.


I have lived in this valley
for fifteen years,
with only half my heart,
and I am still just a visitor here,
perched, like Raven,
on the topmost branch
of the jagged scrag,
gauging the horizon,
gathering my wings
in readiness
to fly.

for Karin's prompt at Real Toads: halves, by half, halvsies. Day 19.

17 comments:

  1. This is so beautiful.... love the imagery :D

    Nine swans huddle at the river's edge
    and my solitary heart
    is floating in the mist
    along its shore.

    The poem itself is graceful just like the swans mentioned here :D
    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

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  2. Ah. I hope you get back to the sea! A very poignant poem! Thanks for participating, Sherry. K. (Manicddaily)

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  3. There's a new moon made of glass
    hanging over the mountain,
    and an alabaster shawl
    draped along its slopes..... I am just envious of that magical sentence.

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  4. WOW... the first stanza just pulled me into the beauty of the landscape... yet if there is another place we will always just be guests.. a half presence.

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  5. gesh, sherry this was awesome.
    ZQ

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  6. SO much beauty!~ And yet when your heart is elsewhere you are "perched, like Raven,
    on the topmost branch
    of the jagged scrag,
    gauging the horizon"
    ready to fly.

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  7. The sense of that longest journey, the shortness of our visit here, permeates this with peace and longing both, Sherry. Your first stanza is especially beautiful.

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  8. Sherry, you need a place where you are more than just a visitor....time to fly!

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  9. Some lovely images here: "alabaster shawl", in particular - a inspired piece of phraseology. I really related to the poem, Sherry, as I, too, feel like a visitor where I live . . . sigh . . .

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  10. Your opening wowed the britches off me!! I love the thought of that glass moon...the rest that follows is as mystical as the image you chose. Beautiful work, Sherry...I so enjoyed this.

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  11. This is beautiful. I feel the yearning. May you soon use your wings.

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  12. I don't know what to say... The idea of living somewhere for that long with just half one's heart makes my eyes tear up... Beautiful!

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  13. Fly well! (Meanwhile, what a beautiful poem (again).

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  14. your wings are flapping testing the wind. and your raising your voice up to the sky howling with your friends. their attire is made of fur that are meant to roam to promulgate the inspirational soul of the forest and yours is made of feathers awaiting the wind to ready itself for you to fly.

    beautiful, mi amiga

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  15. Very cool piece. This poem lets me visit your valley!

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  16. Wow Sherry. This poem comes straight from your heart. I can feel the palpitations, the longing to fly.

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  17. I have often wondered about people who are born in a place, grow up there, live their entire life and hardly ever move out. For some others, there seem to be wheels built into their system. Hard to understand which is the better way of living.

    Always in favour of those in readiness to fly!

    Beautifully expressed, Sherry

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I so appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.
Thank you so much. I will be over to see you soon!