Monday, October 23, 2006
Poem by Eric Ashford
Here is a brand new poem by Eric Ashford. As always, he presents us with breathtaking imagery and fresh insights. I think he is one of the best poets among us, and I am just waiting for the moment when he is "discovered."
Autumn Chant
I am confident that one of my famous morning songs
will come to me soon,
If not today, then some tomorrow
yet to be created by my sight and breath.
The short shadows of autumn
have been curling around the broken shells of time.
The miniscule worlds of dew and wind-spray
have become one beach and wave of now.
I think there will be words
forming beneath the substrata of my life soon.
Sounds that may crush together some fallen leaves
where the light can rustle and whisper.
I suspect my voice
shall trickle shyly from the frost of dawn
and like melting water, sparkle into speech.
Some innocent chanting of my heart
born of a silent persistence
that has yet to be named, my joy and my sorrow.
copyright, Eric Ashford
Autumn Chant
I am confident that one of my famous morning songs
will come to me soon,
If not today, then some tomorrow
yet to be created by my sight and breath.
The short shadows of autumn
have been curling around the broken shells of time.
The miniscule worlds of dew and wind-spray
have become one beach and wave of now.
I think there will be words
forming beneath the substrata of my life soon.
Sounds that may crush together some fallen leaves
where the light can rustle and whisper.
I suspect my voice
shall trickle shyly from the frost of dawn
and like melting water, sparkle into speech.
Some innocent chanting of my heart
born of a silent persistence
that has yet to be named, my joy and my sorrow.
copyright, Eric Ashford
