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Tuesday, November 10

Piano Pianissimo


Calendar of days untold

Unaffected , unknown

Books on a desk unread
Unfolded, untouched

Trees full of birds that chirp
Unheard, unconsciously unloved

See a floor full of toys
Untidy, unseen, unplayed

Framed pics of people
I’ve never met
Haven’t yet observed

Dreams whose meanings
Remain in misfortune
Misunderstood, unforgotten

Sunrays which escaped me
Warmed me, warned me
And behind left me

Directions to three ways
Unachieved, unlived, unborn.

Fish swimming in low tides.

© Dulce..................................................................................................................................Deviantart Image


15 comments:

Anonymous said...

you always have such wonderful words and photos, you make my mind work, my heart fill with love, my eyes wander, observe, my lips smile ( sometimes mositen ) lol

This makes me look deep ,yearning to know and to be known, to leave nothing unread, untouched, welcome the unxpected


SIGH this is such a wonderful write..

* thanks for your lovely comments. Have a great DAY. HUGS

Nessa said...

This feels like a succession of Haiku. Nice rhythm.


Blast from the Past

Sylvia said...

That's all... Signs of an unfulfilled life. No! It can't be!

LarryG said...

deep and lasting friends have been added here, that much will remain... unchanging ...
xxxooo's

Jessie said...

I loved it all!!! every beautiful line spoke to me ...
exceptionally well done dear Dulce!

Liam said...

I'm curious about the framed pics of people you never met

Fireblossom said...

Are you back, dear Dulce? Hooray!

I really love the pictures and poetry quotes at the top of your sidebar!

The shallow water isn't all bad. There is plenty of light that comes through, and people whose legs you can swim around. ;-)

steveroni said...

"Constructive Critique" of my own attempts at poetic interpretation:

Always I have tried to find the "meaning" of your (and others') poetry.

This evening I have come to a realization that Poetry, as music, painting, dance, architecture, and other art forms, is created twice. The writer and the reader together are co-creators.

What is the experience, or where would be the fun, the pleasure, the spirituality, of a work of art, unless I take part in the author's effort?

What I'm talking about is really material for a blog--I'll do that tonight.

Dulce, I love your work, and now I understand what I before did not. Thank you, love!

LOVE and PEACE!

Zee said...

My dear friends Dulce,

I believe that I have told you before that your poems have a special taste...and yes, the images are the other half that complete the bueaty...keep writing and i'll keep reading! All the best to you my dear friend! Hugs

Dr.John said...

A poem filled with images.
Created and then uncreated.
Given and taken away.
Sense and nonsense

Well done

Anonymous said...

What a lovely poem! I love the pictures you put with your poems. They're inspiring!

Ellie Kings said...

Beautifully written, as always Dulce.
Very captivating and descriptive.

Shadow said...

this is really one to think about. about the things we are missing, what we have and don't appreciate, what we do but don't enjoy yet should...

Dulçe ♥ said...

I sense this has not been understood... but poetry is just words flowing and they do make sense beieve it!...somehow, in this head of mine!

THANKS a lot all of you my sweet friends for your lovely comments!

Calli said...

Even in misunderstanding we are essentially understood...make sense? ;)...
love the alliteration in this one!

Happy day~
Calli