Painting with Words

                                                         

When I published my last book, Our World is Burning, I thought I would study the writing craft more deeply. But first I had to clean out my filing cabinet, which was a total mess. I tossed stuff out and then came across a yellowing folder. It was full of forty years of my poems. Most of it was garbage but there were enough gems to create a volume made from six very different moods. This one comes from Part 5: Speaking of True Love. The volume will be published early in 2019.

Dance of the Eyes

Behind a plow of words a poet drives a furrow,

never straight.

Phrases spiral upwards as an eagle soars in a sky

with no horizon or meter.

 

Cascading into passages that hover,

tracing cosmic runes at the edge of knowing.

Words drift by on the morning mist,

a whisper of wind haunts every thought I breathe.

 

Enter the Muse – waiting wondrous so long

to grant life to this poem on dancing with the eyes

 

Slow pirouette of eyes turning en pointe,

knowing glimpses dancing with joy.

Our soft spoken adoration blows on dandelions,

creating parasols drifting to fertile ground.

 

The waltz of happiness, exhilaration of vigorous reels

leave all sadness behind –

a funeral march to banish pain elsewhere.

That was all before our eyes danced together.

 

My life lives in each glance of your eyes.

Cradled in the mosaic of green lustre smiling from you.

Gently lifting my heart you reach how deep

we bind together.

 

Connecting where the universe begins and ends.

 

Delicate curves of elegant quadrilles, staccato intensity of flamenco

and the peace of loving serenade.

We dance with our eyes, sneezy jive, convulsive samba,

cheek to cheek smooch.

 

All in place, this dance of our eyes

 

France, August 2001

Ian Prattis is a Zen teacher, poet and author. For his books go to www.ianprattis.com

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