Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Magpie Tales: Icons of Dust



Icons of Dust

When I am alone
The world shoves poetry
Into my brain.
It germinates in earth
And sky and trees
And snow glistening
In morning light.
Brick walls and birds
Cello music and
Gnarled hands.
I name it
Give it story
Fill my language with gold.
And the presence inside
All things muses on beauty
As brick becomes an
Icon of red dust
Coating my eyelids
And choking my voice
With song.

(Go here for more Magpie Tales. It's worth the flight!)

13 comments:

  1. Really good take on the prompt!

    ReplyDelete
  2. You have painted a particularly beautiful picture with these words, Jo.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Your poem is a rose garden, well nurtured and beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What a glorious take on the photo and on the mind of a writer, too, Nana Jo. Beautiful! Those first 3 lines - so perfect! I can totally relate :)

    ReplyDelete
  5. It might be a rose garden, but I suspect it is quite a deep rose garden.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Wow, Nana Jo. You've been hiding your poetry-writing candle under a bushel. This is stunning.

    ReplyDelete
  7. You are a poem gardener! Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Original and inspiring. What more could anyone want?

    ReplyDelete
  9. When I am alone
    The world shoves poetry
    Into my brain...

    wow, you are super creative, cheers.

    ReplyDelete
  10. What a wonderful way with words.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Who'd have thought a load of old bricks could bring about something so poignant. Nice!

    ReplyDelete