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Author Name: Freebluefish 2 Comments
Date Added: April 24, 2005 17:04:36 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Unspecified
Category: Inspirational Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
Whisper foxes

At night the ghosts of foxes
i believe
scamper around the house
of silence..
How their  feet step in lines

beyond description
from other worlds to ours.
The shutters of the windows creak
as they pass in hidden labors
and even the wooden floorboards whisper
of their magic passage...

For they are beyond touch
and beyond
the flesh's perception...
Dance foxes on your paws
write your poems on golden grounds
i hear the stalking of your joyous
velvet footsteps piping
 the privilege of your music
and i smile depressing lips
into a curve beyond mind
for you run beyond others ears
the merest whisper
Invisible to those whose ears
have long worn down by the cares
of this world
i pier out the middle of the wooden slates
and watch the moon a enormous fruit
of mystery in orange journeys fall beyond
the hills of twilight
beyond the gleaming of the sun
which in patience bides its time.....

Fox you dissipate
dissolve into nothingness
airless emerge into the shadows
that are prepared for you--
Nightfall is drawing it curtains
on the other side
of our small world unforeseeable
 and inescapable,--
ever searching
disturb some other sleep
whisper fox
as you pace into interlocking circles
rustling letters as you stalk the goose of rhyme--
perhaps you are not ghost or fox
just the whisper of words on paper
manifestations of misspellings--
that in gentleness frees the leaves
from sleeping trees
and haunts the whiteness of paper....

Author's Notes:
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'Whisper foxes' Copyright © Andrew Rymill
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Comments:
Comment By: Freejag on April 26, 2005 07:27:29 AM Report
What I like most about the poems I've read of yours is that they are well crafted and flow nicely at a pace that is just right. This is another example of that.
Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on April 25, 2005 08:41:43 AM Report
ANDREW, THIS IS SO VERY BEAUTIFUL I KNOW SHE WILL LOVE THIS...whisper fox
as you pace into interlocking circles
rustling letters as you stalk the goose of rhyme--
perhaps you are not ghost or fox
just the whisper of words on paper
manifestations of misspellings--
that in gentleness frees the leaves
from sleeping trees
and haunts the whiteness of paper....

A FRIEND ~ SHE




 


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