Sand and Feathers

Feet and art make I (n) den tati on

the earth

the heart

is large and deep thinking

the hull, buoyant and safe

the smile

sometimes steel sometimes butter

squeezes  in between words

like itatoron

do flying fish have feathers


Owls tell me father’s secret

his love is not hollow noise


like air and sand

his guidance, life’s lion

like north point


magnetic, magnifi  (sent)

to me



or bird

fear (ce)

feet and feathers

His heart is my boat





My father’s





Published by The Silver Poet

I AM a little spark in the sea of conscious awareness. I am passionate about bringing the concept of freedom of expression into the forefront of our one mind and a keen awareness of personal power to the hearts of little children everywhere. I exist to express!

27 thoughts on “Sand and Feathers

      1. ick, I get the unresolved relationship with your father bit! That’s too bad for you both, but, what he’ll never know is in some weird twisted way, he’s addaed to you being an amazing artist…checked out your art site yesterday, just amazing work! Au revoir


      2. he has definitely contributed to a lot of the good things about me, thank you for your compliment! He is a good man really just a bit introverted and not very cuddly!


  1. Reblogged this on The Secret Lives of Gas Stations and commented:
    Oh, the heart. Why isn’t there a plan for the heart by now?
    A simple map, some kind of outline – a penciled list nailed
    to the cathedral door…

    Large – God, yes. Why was I permitted to navigate the heart’s mutiplying vastness as if I were a merry traveler?
    Or. a – Crusader, protected by a saint and
    always going home?

    Thoughts so deep I fell – way – in.

    Where is that hull I’ve heard about? Show me, please,
    where – that is, where to stand: .
    Buoyant. Safe!

    If I could pray, I would kneel: “Let me. Rest from Justice, no one is there. Let me. Lay down my sword and shield.”

    If I could just – stand in that place, with, you know,
    you guys
    and not fall in. Maybe that’s the freedom I was fighting for.


  2. This is very interesting. I went from thinking this writer has lost his mind. To thinking this writer is so deep his world is beyound my reach. In any instance the metaphors are very original.


    1. I have lost my mind in a lagoon so deep as to be occasionally out of reach of even the most perceptive of readers!

      nothing better than an original metaphor!

      It is really a poem about the deep love a child has for their father, a father that is to a large part emotionally unavailable yet completely creatively fascinating….


      1. Okay I read it over now that you explained it ‘s a child’s love for his. I hear the voice of the child and see through his eye. Thanks. Understanding makes even more beautiful.


    1. In this poem I am exploring the love and fear I have for my father….so I guess I am calling on some deep old stuff….The rock painting is part of a workshop I did with a group of ten year old called ‘long ago stones’ in which we considered that the way we choose to express ourselves carries into our future in some way…..emotional intelligence stuff.


  3. I like the structure that you adopted for this poem but interestingly enough, it distracted me a little for the themes of father daughter relationship. Why, if you don’t mind me asking “n”, is in parenthesis? I like the visual it creates and for the rest, I can hear the play on words when I read them out loud.
    This is a beautiful looking poem if I may so.


    1. what an interesting thing ….hmmm the (n) it is to in a way remove it from the word (although I know it might look to be emphasising it…) To leave the sound of identati (identity)…..
      I never mind anyone asking about the poetry, I realise it is not always a straight forward story 😉
      Thanks J


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