• Life
  • ,
  • Nature
    • Savant

    Poem Commentary

    An excercise in imagery and alliteration. The picture is of a sunrise, described metaphorically and each hue represents a chapter in a story of someone's or something's Morning. The Sun, a bird, a child,a family.


    The sky opens up with a purplish growl. 
    At the first wind, the first ray of light broke through the clouds,
    as if life depended on it.
    Bending ionic particles of precipitation partially present from last night’s mist.  Punching a hole through a rainbow. 
    As spectacles go, the escape seemed slow but a blink would make you miss it.  It only took an instant
    and in that instant a bright extension
    from the heavens to the world was formed. 
    More like a lightning sliding board. 
    As the children of light slide down it’s line their laughter clears the atmosphere. 
    When they touchdown there is only the sound of warm brown.  The silence is...

    So Beautiful.


    The amber haze stretches towards the tree tops
    and at each branch it stops to knock on a Skylark’s window. 
    To genesis photosynthesis. 
    To melt away the faults, failures, frustrations, and fury from the former day. Evaporation becomes synonymous with yesteryear. 
    Rehydration in the forgetful sea.
    Brand new like a second chance. 
    Second chance like being born again. 
    Born again like raising up on the third day. 
    Imagine the surprise on the Sun’s face when its rays hit that grave. 
    It was probably like when a child wakes on Christmas. 
    She was restless that evening.  She was frosted fruit dreaming, purple.  
    Three months ago you planned for this.  You worked that overtime.  You saved, you prayed, you lay-awayed. 
    Now your reward is in her smile.  Man, it looks like joy outside.

    So Beautiful.


    The Blue that amber turned to is now saying your name.  The visual sensory overload guides you out of the darkest dark like a bell laden buoy outside the boundaries of Bermuda’s triune. 
    You roll to the side as slumber tries
    to pull you back under. 
    Feeling that familiar field adjacent to your pillow, you find emptiness. 
    Rising with quickness enriches the disorient.  Your position is stiffened by the smell of bacon.  Warm grey.
    Then a crescent filled with teeth finds its place on your face.  Here he comes.  Husband hurried down early, before the break of day to make wifey a plate.  "Good Morning.", as he places the tray over your waist and a kiss on your forehead. 
    A wordless apology for what he said last night when his regard ran red
    You inhale the heavy humility so your heart pumps out compassion.  Even in your innocence you say to him, "I’m sorry."
    A tear rolls down his cheek from seeing your forgiveness glowing, golden
    You hold him. 
    The rays of light turn white from the explosion
    of love shared between He and you.  That love is...

    Oh so beautiful.

    Poem Comments


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    simoneaugustus commented on Morning


    I am awed and inspired by the way you set this up, with colors as chapters and the stunning imagery you bring forth. This piece was very skillfully crafted and full of expert symbolism. The only suggestion I might make (and I could be way off base here, but :) it's just an idea) would be to play with some of the line breaks a bit more. I feel that changing where a few of the lines end would give more power to the core of the piece and just enhance it as a whole. As with any critique, this is sent with the warmth of friendship and you are free to use or dismiss it as you see fit. Overall, though, I must say this was an absolutely incredible poem!!



    I must Augustus. Your comments and recommendations are welcomed. Thankfully, I have not fallen prey to ego and arrogance. Sometimes I am happy with the results of my musings, but more often I wonder if it could be better. With that said, who the heck do you think you are!!!! Kidding. I appreciate your courage and honesty.

    SavVySam commented on Morning


    This write is... oh so beautiful! What an unusually lyrical way you have with words that they trip off the tongue when reading! I love this work...also noting the assigning of warmth to gray..nice touch with the weaving of colors through this very pleasant and touching piece!:)



    Oh wow, I spelled gray wrong. How tacky! I think I chose gray because I was visualizing the smoke coming from the bacon. Not sure if you caught that the sky can be any one or all of those colors in the morning? You are savvy, so you probably did. Smile.

    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

    Savant’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Morning 2
    Kind Words 6
    Perspective 4
    Corners 24
    State of Man 45