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
but
like air and sand
his guidance, life’s lion
like north point
fascinating,
magnetic, magnifi (sent)
to me
.
Big GOD
or bird
fear (ce)
feet and feathers
His heart is my boat
.
In
the
beginning
My father’s
hand
(s)
and
feathers
Silver Poetry 
Not sure what to say, this paints so many images, love it ~Lady Day
LikeLike
Lots of images to distract you from my unresolved relationship with my father! haha Thanks M’Lady!
LikeLike
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
LikeLike
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!
LikeLike
just so good creating images from your words. I love it.
LikeLike
Thank B I appreciate your appreciation x
LikeLike
This stirred me on a deep archetypal level – it’s an experience. Thank you!
LikeLike
a stirring is all one could asks for 😉
LikeLike
Like a kaleidoscope for my eager brain:)))
LikeLike
I like your brain…..it is so receptive … yes a very good brain 🙂
LikeLike
Like a tapering dream, deep down into the soul… Thanks
LikeLike
You are so very welcome….I feel like there is now a colourful ribbon from this poem to your soul, confirming the ultimate connection!
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
thankyou and AMAZING xx
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
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….
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
What piercing images of birds and boats. I agree that they sound archetypal–or are emblems of a mystical experience. And I love the rock-painting!
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
OMG! Speechless.
LikeLike
Oh NO! quick make a poem! xx
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
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
LikeLike
There are poems that seem to choose you, this is one of them~thank you for taking time to understand your heart~Sincerely Deborah
LikeLike
thanks D x
LikeLike
Thanks for stopping by my little blog . I love stories and poetry especially ones from the heart. I look forward to reading your posts.
LikeLike
wonderful, it is usually pretty nice weather over here 😉
LikeLike