© Steve King
All rights reserved
Ah, the morning light,
—Morning
Light!
It won’t do now
to squander other words,
just
—Morning Light!
A painter might rise to his brush
and measure it so true.
Another sort might offer faint
reflections of the sun.
But I must fold this picture
in the dark book of my mind,
where all images are fixed,
where breaching intuitions intertwine
with old emotions
and the unrefined imaginings
that heat the youngest of desires.
So when the book reopens,
those shadows to unwind,
yes,
then shall there be words
for Morning Light.
Great comparisons..on how poets have to paint with words. I guess we manage sometimes...
ReplyDeletesmiles....the painter may capture it, but then we are stuck only with their view...on opening the book of your mind and reading morning light...we paint it ourselves across our mind canvas...smiles. cool bit poet...
ReplyDeleteI really like this Steve--its almost brisk, yet very sweet in its unfolding, and as satisfying to read as eating a ripe peach off the tree, equally full of that golden morning light.
ReplyDeleteLove this, Steve!!
ReplyDeleteThis is what we do as poets, right? Savor, absorb, file away. You've captured it exactly here.
ReplyDelete"But i must fold this picture in the dark book of my mind"...a great line contrasting with - Morning Light! Like this poem much, Steve! ~jackie~
ReplyDeleteAn aubade - so profound is the brilliance of that light that it can only be seen by a shadow on a card,or a hidden memory in a book where later the remembrance can be captured. This is a significant metaphor for the poetic process and beautifully expressed. Excellent!
ReplyDeleteAh lovely. Every morning I wish I had gotten up earlier--well actually I get up at 5 one day a week and always wish the other days that I were also getting up at 5 - but that day I kind of wish I could stay in bed.
ReplyDeleteThe point is that morning light is magical and you have captured some of that magic here. I particularly like the way you have isolated the "yes". (Of course, I think of Joyce and Woolf - with books ending on that word.)
So when the book reopens,
those shadows to unwind,
yes,
It is marvelous. k.
I love the morning light, first to the last line ~ I grapple and search for my words first thing in the morning ~ I also admire the subtle contrast, dark book in my mind, shadows to unwind ~
ReplyDeleteLovely to read you Steve ~ Hope you are well ~
Smiles from BC~
Grace
It seems that patience is of the greatest virtues of all; it's more rare an attribute it seems than ever before...
ReplyDeleteNot surprising of course.. You capture what I understand as the spirit beautifully here love you friend it is great to read these words!