That was beautiful- enjoyed it very much...

Well. That was an experiment that failed utterly. That poem was supposed to be shaped like a heart! I want to try again, if you will indulge me. I will insert some HTML tags and see if I can get the shape to remain. If not, we perhaps should delete this poor topic. Charlotte

We meet and sweet sudden lifting incandescent music showers my soul with multicolored notes that circle and hover and sparkle and beckon my heart to hold tight as one would grasp a balloon string and ascend note by note pausing reaching gathering clouds unto my lonely bosom holding close their ephemeral ecstacy until they dissolve melting from my heat as clouds turn into dreams leaving my arms empty and aching and wet and wanting yet I return and return to your song seeking the sweetness the colors the rising the light and even the clouds willing to pay for my brief pleasure with the inevitable empty terrifying fall that comes when the music ends and I let go of the sodden cold strings please help me to find your strong hand warm and substantial because I know that if I hold tightly when the music finds me my heart will not pursue phantom pillows and you will not let me fall and we will sing bright songs to lure the lonely stars from heaven down to us

good enuf. :)

Tres charment...

I don't think that it failed at all. I enjoyed it as much as half a heart, as I did as a whole. And yes, I knew what it was before you said.

Thanks! It remains one of my favorites, not because of the form, but because of its rambling, free-floating, language. I often think it might be better served by the shape of a cloud. :)

neither cement worker was lookin at me when I laid down in it they'd gone to lunch by the time they returned I was below the surface with a straw giving me air their talk told me they thought the mess was probably caused by a dog slipping around in it I pulled my straw down when they spaded smooth that little spot where the straw'd been slightly sticking out (fraction of a fraction of an inch) ok, ok, it's about this monotony....okay? it has nothing to do with Ralph Waldo Emerson oh nevermind but wait, I think I'm in the back woods of a western movie where women express themselves by joining bible belt daughters moving to the mountains letters that they couldn't mail, feel crazy enough to say it was worth it letters they couldn't mail to earlier stragglers, one of them fell to me I read it with my eyes closed, the better to stay out there where the mountains talked mountain talk candles heated warm the wine, as the Appalachians unfastened their spirit and her eyes turned the edge of this letter she wrote me i'll tell you what she plunked down on the paper them words slumped over me like they was reachin' fer ya well...umm, thaz right, the paper forgot me as the words remembered you her letter fluttered loose danced for the cement workers they walked towards it, stepped on my gut, on my cheek and forehead they had no idea the letter knew exactly what it was doing then this mountain song---Jenny was singin' it wine warned her guitar not to stop her voice assured my heart that she would find my child her voice thanked my heart for helping her find my child her voice had this twang in it that we sat up in the cement workers were dangling from the letter by then and the letter was sleepwalking, up, further up into the sky so I'm just lettin' ya know you guessed right so now ya know why I'm rustlin' over them far hills goin' the other way at a gallop (my horse don't poot around---he can't---he invented himself)

Charlotte, this is basically my first time here, and I think I'll stay because of that poem. It is truly beautiful, and the idea of poetry being visual really appeals. How wonderful to be able to use language an form together to form a poem for the ears, eyes, and heart.

Thank you, Riette!

No, thank YOU.