Canary Monologue

[~Sophia~]

Canary Monologue

I often have time away from your hands
to sit by the brook and babble to stones
looking back at me with dispassionate
curiosity.

Today the trickle is rather dull.
A stagnating conversation of small
sonar pings between pebbles

pale as the song of this meadow
caught in my throat. Muse, take me
with you when you drift past

ordinary. Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth above -
black as the graphite that weaves between

green rain and grenades, the erotic left and
the benign right - to where the canto shimmies
and even a bird with weak wings
can pierce the sky.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Lovely final two lines to such a fluent, free-flowing poem!

[Virgil]

Sophia, you are just knocking me off my feet. As I was reading the first few stanzas, I thought nice, but ok. And then the final two stanzas are just breath taking.

...Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth above -
black as the graphite that weaves between

green rain and grenades, the erotic left and
the benign right - to where the canto shimmies
and even a bird with weak wings
can pierce the sky.

Can you teach me how to write like that? I mean wow.

[~Sophia~]

Thanks PrinceMyshkin!

______________________________

Hi Virgil I hardly think you need writing lessons from me!

The beginning of the poem was meant to be just sort of so so, like the babble of the brook while the N is waiting for inspiration from a muse so, I think it works! You had the reaction I was hoping for!

[ampoule]

Oh kiddo, thanks for letting me 'drift past ordinary' with you in this beautiful beautiful poem.

[~Sophia~]

Oh kiddo, thanks for letting me 'drift past ordinary' with you in this beautiful beautiful poem.

Anytime ampoule and thank you!!!

[a_little_wisp]

Muse, take me
with you when you drift past

ordinary. Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth above -
black as the graphite that weaves between

green rain and grenades, the erotic left and
the benign right - to where the canto shimmies
and even a bird with weak wings
can pierce the sky.

Invocation of the Muse!-
No need to invoke her, she clearly gives it to you freely.

"Green rain and grenades"
"Erotic left and benign right"

The way the language built up to ending - "and even the bird with weak wings can pierce the sky" - gave me the chills. Good ones. <3

[~Sophia~]

Invocation of the Muse!-
No need to invoke her, she clearly gives it to you freely.

LOL, I wish! Most times I have to bribe her with a glass (or two) of a nice red wine. Thanks wispy!!

[qimissung]

Wow oh wow, ~sophia~ Virgil is so right. I like all of it, but the last two are something special.

[~Sophia~]

Hi qim and thanks!

[thinkingsam]

My gosh, this piece is lovely.

babble to stones
looking back at me with dispassionate
curiosity.

Love these lines.

[~Sophia~]

Thanks thinkingsam!

[Silas Thorne]

Wow! I liked the whole thing. And when you drift past the ordinary, you really drift into the sublime.

[~Sophia~]

Thank you Silas. (reaching through the screen with a big hug)

[firefangled]

Yes, everything they said.

Your images are beyond breathtaking.