oh my - so sorry Zy - i can still see only a cosed eye - and a shattered face - i hope you will bear with me - also - sorry for using your space - so enjoyed your rendition

 

best,

m

 

-

 

tears of madness in ginger dream

 

hold me open - pour in me thy seathing will

i pray thee

 

but close me out not

 

throw me 'way - but seal me out - oh no not again again

 

shut hasps - lock locks - bolt bolts - but leave me one rift - one chink - one fissure

 

it is i - only i that wish thy jagged touch once more

 

i - i that dreams see you - visage glimpse of once a one called thee

 

thee - i screech the night - THEE! - whose eyes melt me to puddle glow

 

thee - [in whispers] - [thee]

 

and beg you do not go

 

once more

 

where i will not feel

 

-

 

regards,

m

Aahhh...if one looks 'coldly' into Maria's picture...

there is a superb red sunrise and a glimple of a blue sea, Mikhail,

and I imagine the foreground os of blurred vivid red poppies.

 

But as the poets we are, we have each interpreted as we perceive

and we are not a million miles apart, Dear Friend.

 

I saw 'self' being torn into two and you...

you saw the pain inside from silent longing of an unrequieted love.

Both took a fierey, almost searingly emotional aspect of the abstracted red,

a colour often identified as a mind disturbing catalyst.

I am honoured that you share my space with such excellent skill, Mikhail,

as I am certain Maria will be,

this is a thread of the corner often overlooked, sadly.

If 'all' varieties of poetry 'were' to be in main thread only...

the threads would speed down much too quickly,  again, allowing poets work to slip by unread,

so thank you for visiting in here,  Zy