Thursday, January 24, 2008

Reading Aloud

23 January 2008, 10:15 PM
Beloved is taking a poetry class which, sadly, I am unable to attend because of the time when they meet. This was yesterday's assignment: To write a poem using descriptors that originate from senses other than sight- in other words, sounds, tastes, smells and tactile sensations.

Crackle-snap scent of sulfur
and nearly fireproof, unseasoned wood
finally burning,
its virtue seeps through satin and silk
as story spans the distance
whence you longed for a listener,
whither I yearned to hear what goodness,
what light might be borne upon every word.

Chenille drapes heavy as my eyelids,
caramel and crème linger hot on my tongue.
I drift through sandalwood—

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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