Monday, May 08, 2017

Two Poem Drafts, Two Poem Re-Drafts

Maria Kannon

Who perceives the sounds of the world?
Children's cries float above the way.
The heart gives birth to a true word;
beyond the veil will see the wise.
It is a gift to know the word --
a mother's love will light the way.
Who perceives the sounds of the world?
Who will hear the cries of the world?


The sunset's kiss is sweet and soft,
painting gladness on the eye,
a quiet joy of day well-spent,
pleasant as its end draws nigh.

The world is gentle, hope is clear.
Nothing bars the way to sleep.
Night diffuses through the air,
inspiring dream; breathe it deep.


Wild or garden-born they grow;
some form time-resisting stone,
some wear down, like dusty bone,
ruined castles in the snow.
Some remain enduring friends,
some are wraiths forever feared;
some are friends made into foes,
some are new to troth and faith.
Some are spirits born of love,
a shining sphere of heaven's saints;
some are ghosts that haunt the soul;
some, shadows sleepless fancy paints.
But all are sifted like the dust
that covers cities over,
transforming mighty temples proud
to hills of earth and clover.


At times a loneliness will creep
within as from some monstrous deep,
surprise my heart, and terrorize
my brain with burning in its eyes.
But mostly I, a timeless stone,
am never lonely, just alone
with sun in sky, and trees around
that sway in breezes rich with sound
of music sung by birds that, free,
alone can speak the joy in me.

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