Breaking Breath

Member since 2002 · Posted 20 Jun 2003 · Edited 9 Dec 2011 · 4 comments

The breath lends itself, in a simple day, to mudra the poets' parched lips, releasing the clutch of the chest. The quiet glance inward, that garden deep downward. Inhaling to bring the daybreak even, and refine the waxing moon's glare. Pure and simply a silent breath. In daydreams emerging whatever life's meaning. A moment's pulse, its breadth of far reaching heart matters begin to flutter- on the barest silver, wing-tip, from this space and this time- of the mind into rhyme.

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mean 8.00 weighted 5.14 rank 5464 views 545 View voting details →

1 vote so far. Yours would make 2.1 vote so far

4 comments

[8] Jeremi B. Handrinos 21-Jun-03/6:25 AM Reply

Another tickler

[n/a] daniella › Jeremi B. Handrinos 8-Jul-03/9:02 PM Reply

thnx j

[7] embersandenvelopes 5-Apr-04/8:41 PM Reply

I liked the imagery but I got a little mixed and turned around while reading this. However, I think if you cleaned it up some, it would take away from the poem instead of adding to it. I think it's one of those that I have to keep reading several times over.

[n/a] daniella › embersandenvelopes 1-Jun-14/7:31 PM Reply

thank you :)) i am myself kind of tangled in my head.. ee cummings was my poet father.