Enigma: Memoirs of a World Traveller

She’d floated,
understanding
the music shaking her.
Not even you could count
that an ordinary life.
Forgotten intensity
traced her parted lips.
She couldn’t help you,
a romantic,
and nobody was listening.

I’ve come to love the silence,
after the sudden, endless land
of holy men.
In visions
that nobody had seen,
the sounds of thousands of mystics
are an upwelling of wonder
when the power of this world
stones you.

The lake,
soaked in sunshine threaded blue,
lit everybody,
especially stitching her with
an iridescent smile.
She looked beautiful;
love, as always,
refreshing her.
Memory turned the pages
– a long life –
only to be reminded that
the complications of love
end
in weightless words.

 

This is an example of found, or blackout, poetry. It is so well-explained by Jen Maidenberg, that I see no point in trying to re-explain it myself.

The source of the words used in this poem is the book, Late Nights on Air, by Elizabeth Hay.

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4 thoughts on “Enigma: Memoirs of a World Traveller

    • This one was so hard so I’m glad you, the master of found poetry, liked it. I had some iCloud issues, but I’ve added the pictures now. Clearly, I was inspired by your post.

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