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Two flowers open with the sun

Vines grow through the eyes of a skull-

This land cannot resurrect The electricity

of the bird that owned that crown-

I can feel the wind

But cannot detect the pulse of the

Silent power of the soil-nature’s clean pure oil

Rain falls on the tattooed rocks and cliffs below.

I am a human tattoo moving across

Landscapes being slowly erased by time.

As I hold the skull, the wind’s microphone

amplifies the music of the trees.

Birds observe me eying a distant promontory-

Waves crash over the imperceptible

Measurements of the sands hourglass.

The sea has co-existed with the land-

And the mind with the body Thoughts outnumber footsteps-

And few thoughts reach the tongue-

Only certain parts of the sea

Are fated to reach the shore.

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  • 2 weeks later...

 

Two flowers open with the sun.

Vines grow through the eyes of a skull -

this land cannot resurrect the electricity

of the bird that owned that crown.

 

I can feel the wind

but cannot detect the pulse

of the silent power

of the soil - nature’s pure oil.

 

Rain falls on the tattooed rocks and cliffs below.

I am a human tattoo moving across

landscapes being slowly erased by time.

As I hold the skull, the wind’s microphone

 

amplifies the music of the trees.

Birds observe me eying a distant promontory-

waves crash over the imperceptible

measurements of the sands hourglass.

 

The sea has co-existed with the land -

and the mind with the body.

Thoughts outnumber footsteps

and few thoughts reach the tongue.

 

Only certain parts of the sea

are fated to reach the shore.

 

As usual some imaginative hooks for this reader. Please ignore my tweaks if unhelpful.

 

all the best

 

Phil

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David W. Parsley

Barry, I agree with Phil's comments (and tweaks). This poem has a sea-air feel to it, one can almost taste the salt. It has that disjointed-yet-coherent movement typical of your best work. My only suggestion is to replace Time with something else (or nothing!) in line 11. Great image of the narrator as a moving tattoo on the landscape (evokes ideas and emotions that occur in the work of Ray Bradbury).

 

Another Nice Work!

- Dave

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