Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Mag 71


they do not recall
the messy heat of birth
their molten changeable nature
the way they screamed
steamed
stretched
after the slowly leaving heat
hot soft bodies growing cold
their durable changeability replaced
with fragility
heavy liquid weight transformed
into frail and flawless suspension

time flows like a fish
around their paralyzed forms
frozen
for our feasting eyes

7 comments:

  1. This is a really neat poem about how that glass got to be the beautiful art it is today!

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  2. OMGoodness, just lovely - beautiful photo, brilliant colours and sweet poem. You are indeed talented. Thank you for sharing - Just NICE :)
    Lilly

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  3. I agree with the first two commenters: awesome poetry, fantastic imagery, and... well, I'm running out of superlatives! :-)

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  4. amazing. the birth of art. yep, i REALLY like this one. BRAVO.

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  5. What a wonderful description of their birth :)

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