Friday, May 1, 2009

Mantra

Mantra

my eyes sink
heavily
behind a row of hedges
flocking with birds

falling into
a baffle of loft
how can it be?

waking
with hair ablaze

a box of matches
must have slipped out
of my pocket
while I was dreaming.

This piece was inspired by Diane’s post yesterday about the alarmist coverage of swine flu. It made me think about how rumors are spread, how panic can become pandemic. and on a macular scale, how a thought if repeated enough can take your mind hostage. Turn off your tv and go outside!

6 comments:

Dianne said...

this brought to mind all the times I have had to take a deep breath and put myself back into the moment so as to enjoy a bird, take photos of the sky, hear a child laugh

it is so worth the effort

beautiful sweet one

zoya gautam said...

..playing on psychological elements ur poem has the startling effect of rumors and pandemic hearsay that u refer to ..

" behind a row of hedges
flocking with birds " -provides the contrast .. lovely

..thank u for sharing this ..

SandyCarlson said...

Dreams so indeed have consequences.

the walking man said...

It is the warm air that birds rise on...I doubt there is concern over what it is that warms the air as long as it is not the wings.

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Raven said...

I especially love the last stanza. I love your poetry.

Thanks for the Emily D. over at my nest, by the way. The pirate and the Tiny Terrorist (Angel) are resting at the moment. Whew.