It is common for well-loved songs to find their inspiration in poetry. Some are written with the goal of being transformed into music, including CHAMBER MUSIC by James Joyce.
Five monarchs flutter in a row--They’re grace on wings,And as they go,Time stops. Am I in Avonlea?Though Avonlea has never seenFive monarchs in a row! They make no sound to my own ear,Yet my heart makes outMusic here.Five monarchs make a chord of light.It will ring clear into the night.What dark have I to fear!
I am fond of the little world I’m creating with religious critters. Here continues the Church-Mouse saga with our new protagonist, Church-Cat!
This year I resolved to write a poem a day, and I’ve been keeping up pretty well. I’ll share them on here occasionally. If you want to read them as I go daily, follow my Instagram, @mariellahunt!
Let it be said of meThat my words wadedWhere the wavesDevour, Intent on saving youFor a new Day,For it was notYour Hour. I don’t believeI will meet you;I shall not KnowWho you are, Yet my words,Relentless, found you,Be it near or far. For those who found my work long aft I’ve faded like a flower, … Continue reading To Whom It May Concern
Let it be said of me,“She was open, like a book.”& like a book,Some people can’t get muchFurther than page 1.I am a poem-volumeAmidst documents of war;The thrill explorers felt asTheir schooners left the shore. One day I’ll be a Favorite BookRead ‘neath the setting sun.For now, I’ll stay true to myselfAnd whisper my page … Continue reading Prologue
I am a poet, Keeper of flowers Dwelling-place of storm. My emotions Manifest in Terrifying form. I can destroy you With my words, Feeling no remorse, Or I can calm you, Fighting battles For you at the source. I’ve learned there is No middle ground: Believe me, I tried. I am a dwelling-place Of storm; … Continue reading Dwelling-Place of Storm
Yesterday, the blue and gray Skies rolling overhead, Sighing, seemed to me to say The rivers had turned red. Treading gentle on the grass, I sought peace but found none. April, she had come to pass, Her faithful weeping done. Musical, the ancient trees Groaned with the bluegray sky. Their duet, a mournful sound, Spoke … Continue reading Hundred-Acre Grave
White horses are Sea turtles. I cannot tell my world from theirs. Coral, I watch wildflowers Bloom before my eyes. The breeze to me Feels like a wave, Tousling my hair. I don’t think I belong here, My home is not there.
Bottle up your pain In an old, glass jar. Let it sit there for a day ‘Til it’s black as tar. Fall down on the grass, Find a feather there. Take your bottle; feel the sun Shine down on your hair. Use the feather, trace Feelings in the dirt. It would be a shame to … Continue reading Poetry
I am building calluses Around my heart. Nobody can come in To hear my song. She’s losing strength Because I exposed her To empty souls who Did not know, That she is a melody Few have heard, And she is timid. She will hide. I will not forsake her Or sing her to the dark, … Continue reading Calluses
You were never going to see me Among all the other flowers, Watching idle as the strangers Daily passed me by. I am not unlike my sisters, Neither am I just like them; We are gathered as a body Staring at the sky. If you deign to come in closer And, for once, get on … Continue reading Flowers