Guest guest Posted February 14, 2004 Report Share Posted February 14, 2004 Daphne sleeps Sixteen I will lay me down and make my own horizon and the mantle of the sky will be light upon me and the waters of the wells of dreams will rise and spill lightspun streams through the lovely colored ribbons of my mind I will pluck flowers of hope make a bouquet of words: holy herb, hyssop, prince's pine and balm and weave a garland of stars for him and I will look for him past the meridians of night until I find him he will smile at me and touch my flowers he will play and carry me away like a strong horse and close my eyes with kisses he will smell of sweetgrass and bark and no one will come and no one will talk no one ask why and we will lie together in silence all the night and God himself will sigh Thirty-six I will lay me down and try to make my own horizon and the mantle of life will be heavy and the waters of the wells of dreams will rise and spill their torpid streams through the rusty injunctions of my mind and I will pluck flowers of regret necessity and rue and weave a garland of suggestions but I will hound him past the meridians of the market until I find him he will turn away and touch his till he will find fault with the food he will put himself between my thighs take relief and grope for the bathroom light and smell of disappointment and the children will cry scream and fight and we will lie in silence all the night and God himself will sigh Eighty-six I will lay me down and make my last horizon and the mantle of years will be scraps and the waters of the wells of dreams will rise and spill starsprung streams through the rapid resignations of my mind I will pluck memories past the meridians of reason and give all it ever was to whatever there is and I will look for truth past the meadows of my life until I find Him He will smile to see my flowers He will carry me away with the wind He will gather me to his breast and kiss my eyes in death He will smell new and promised and those that come those that talk or think they know why will lie in silence all the night and God himself will sigh. a.o.howell ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------- as per request of some Alice O. Howell Rosecroft Box 177 Monterey, MA 01245-0177 USA Tel: Fax: " Look for the sacred in the commonplace! " Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 14, 2004 Report Share Posted February 14, 2004 Dear Alice: This is just gorgeous! Say hello to Greg for me. Suzanne Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 14, 2004 Report Share Posted February 14, 2004 Alice... No words...what a magnificent, moving poem! How I've missed having you on-line. Daphne sleeps > > > > > > Daphne sleeps > > > > Sixteen > > I will lay me down > > and make my own horizon > > > and the mantle of the sky > > will be light upon me > > and the waters of the wells of dreams > > will rise and spill lightspun streams > > through the lovely colored ribbons > > of my mind > > > I will pluck flowers of hope > > make a bouquet of words: > > holy herb, hyssop, prince's pine and balm > > and weave a garland of stars for him > > > and I will look for him > > past the meridians of night > > until I find him > > > he will smile at me and touch my flowers > > he will play and carry me away like a strong horse > > and close my eyes with kisses > > he will smell of sweetgrass and bark > > > and no one will come > > and no one will talk > > no one ask why > > and we will lie together in silence all the night > > > and God himself will sigh > > > Thirty-six > > > I will lay me down > > and try to make my own horizon > > > and the mantle of life > > will be heavy > > and the waters of the wells > > of dreams > > will rise and spill their torpid streams > > through the rusty injunctions > > of my mind > > > and I will pluck flowers of regret > > necessity and rue > > and weave a garland of suggestions > > > but I will hound him > > past the meridians of the market > > until I find him > > > he will turn away and touch his till > > he will find fault with the food > > he will put himself between my thighs > > take relief and grope > > for the bathroom light > > and smell of disappointment > > > and the children will cry > > scream and fight > > and we will lie in silence all the night > > > and God himself will sigh > > > Eighty-six > > I will lay me down > > and make my last horizon > > > and the mantle of years > > will be scraps > > and the waters of the wells > > of dreams > > will rise and spill starsprung streams > > through the rapid resignations > > of my mind > > > I will pluck memories > > past the meridians of reason > > and give all it ever was > > to whatever there is > > > and I will look for truth > > past the meadows of my life > > until I find Him > > > He will smile to see my flowers > > He will carry me away with the wind > > He will gather me to his breast > > and kiss my eyes in death > > He will smell new and promised > > > and those that come > > those that talk > > or think they know why > > will lie in silence all the night > > > and God himself will sigh. > > > a.o.howell > > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- > ---------------------------------------------- > as per request of some > Alice O. Howell > Rosecroft > Box 177 > Monterey, MA 01245-0177 USA > Tel: > Fax: > " Look for the sacred in the commonplace! " > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted February 14, 2004 Report Share Posted February 14, 2004 Dear Heaven, Alice, nothing has touched this old body like Daphne sleeps in a long long while. How do you do it? Bless you. love, Toni Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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