Poem -

  The Sense of Something Before it is Something

                                                                           At the end of the day
                                                                                  it is not only
                                                                            the daring to look,
                                                                               but the finding
                                                                           that really matters,
                                                                            isn’t it my darling ..
                                                                                For instance,
                                                                              take the silver
                                                                               off white glint
                                                                           on a herons cheek ..
                                                                                 Visible only
                                                                              in the half-light,
                                                                             or the tremor of
                                                                         a single leaf rejoicing,
                                                                                 the moment
                                                                         it shakes off that last
                                                                                 drop of rain,
                                                                         before fall and is free
                                                                                 once more ..
                                                                             And what about
                                                                           the apple smell of
                                                                         a tap room, lingering ..
                                                                                And that of
                                                                        new puppies, young
                                                                             babies and old
                                                                         scent bottles found
                                                                                  in attics
                                                                             and long lost
                                                                          camphor trunks
                                                                               by chance ..
                                                                        Or that of the smell
                                                                          trapped between
                                                                        pages of old books
                                                                            kept in libraries,
                                                                        out of reach of both
                                                                               prying eyes
                                                                         and too tiny fingers ..
                                                                          While the sound of
                                                                        cracked church bells,
                                                                               nightingales,
                                                                         and worms turning
                                                                         cut through the air
                                                                          and compete with
                                                                         that of snow drops
                                                                                emerging ..
                                                                        And can be heard
                                                                           in the distance
                                                                     above the cry of gulls
                                                                       and storm clouds
                                                                              forming ..
                                                                    Come tell me darling
                                                                          what on earth,
                                                                    are we each missing ..

 

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Comments

author
Being Me

Oh I love, Love, LOVE this! Pinned to read again and again. How brilliant a poet you are!  Wonderful work ... simply magical x

Reply
author
Hj

💯 agree
 brilliant ✨

Reply
author
Neville

Thanking you kindly from afar .. N 

Reply
author
Neville

Bless you Being me .. it would be so very easy to fall in love with you x

Reply
author
Being Me

You would probably change your mind in the real world, Neville. It will be a case of

1. Omg, what is she wearing?
2. I can't believe she just said that!
3. I can't believe she just did that!
4. Where on earth is she?
5. She has hay in her hair.
6. I cant believe she farted like that in public and just said, to all and sundry, "Oops, I must be tutbo charged."​​

I could go on but I wouldn't want to spoil your illusion of me xx
 

Reply
author
Neville

I doubt I would and it wouldn't but thanks for the warning .. x

Reply
author
Being Me

🤣🤣🤣🤣 ❤️ xx

Reply
author
Neville

What are you after Mistress DARKLY .. flattery will get you anything and everything you know .. but in the meantime please accept my BIG THANKYOU :) 

Reply
author
Lorna

Hi Neville
This was brilliantly done
Not only sensory the imagination is provoked
Loved this
Lorna x

Reply
author
Neville

Hey Lorna, thanks a million x

Reply
author
Shaun Cronick

A real work of art Nev.
I agree wholeheartedly with all the above comments.
And choose to add thank God you're on here.
Your presence here added with your writing elevates this site.
It is the stuff poetry dreams are made of.
To write this good.
Thanking you kindly my poetry brother and better.
All good things and respect to you Nev :) 

Reply
author
Neville

You really are far too kind my friend ..
Your support and encouragement are so very much appreciated that
I feel unable to adequately describe the joint buzz and the glow they give me ..
Many of my most sincerest thank you's blown warmly across he water and in your direction ..

Neville 

Reply
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