this is not meant for you
though you were there.
I am what I have always been,
an elixir of words.
I will not erode like the sand
or patience if it ever was.
Washed up on a restless shore
I knocked and you opened the door.
Now, like the pearls beneath my feet
I carry no burden save love.

Steve Hanks art

borrowed from Pinterest

62 thoughts on “confession

  1. I am a habitué of dreams and phantasms created by poetry and art. You combine both with such elegance, Rene. I sensed the wave of the beginning lines that delivered the last three lines and in particular the last line, which for me was the suspended moment between the wave rushing in and then rushing out and the realization of the need to breathe again. The layers of meaning play out in that span of time. No, I didn’t smoke anything, it’s just how your lovely poetry is filtered through my eccentricities. 😊

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      1. You are gifted my dear friend, magical even. Poetry is limitless in the scenes it can draw for a reader but, those scenes are only as good as the artist. Your heart and soul is evident in every line you draw. Every poem is transportive, like a portal to a different time and place where we see the evidence of your grace in the picture you paint with words. It’s a wonderful thing you do. Don’t stop. 😌

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