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golden full rising
orb atop wasted desert
blessed patio

and that memory, still fragrant
of last night [when I caught the moon rise
behind and over the dry mountain]

with a gentle wave of sliding strings
fretless they seem
a taste and texture luscious
cubed mangoes anoint my mouth
sponged softly, white cinnamon bread
washed and warmed, black tea

celebrating the morning
deluge of light through patio door
outside beetles dance
on the desert floor, with visiting weeds
caught by the oasis
of my presence

sitting on a burgundy mat and pillow
the fan blowing warm air softly stirring
currents of dreams, of possibilities
the day holds in its folds
so much to anticipate - would, should and could
and this moment of indecision
on how I will live my life today
is a poet's two seconds of bliss

aug 4 2001
another one from the desert
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jsenn Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2001
Lustrum, my, my, my you do have another way with words, do you not? How you open the mind to the "endearing' qualities of "ill-placed" items, which is so true of Mari's work. In other works the fish taco and the french fry gorged bird, shampoo scented hair seems unreal but so perfectly common that the scene becomes surreal and romanticized and then we realize we saw this before but we never saw it like this. Your poetry, Mari makes us look at the world in this new appreciation for all things good and all things, even these "ill-placed" items which are as common as the air we breathe, become more beautiful, more treasured. You have this ability in you Mari to show us these things....I think you must be told often so you always treasure and always share it.
lustrum Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2001   Writer
whew, again you have set the spark to combust the intellectual and analytical gasses in my oh-so-reverent mind.

alas! ;) (Wink) haha.

Rushing towards singularity.
lustrum Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2001   Writer
you know... i would almost dare to synonymize your word "poet" in the last line with the fragment "a spry person, atune to his/her world - awake!", because it is so true for all of us, albeit, not all of us; know what i mean? of course, i am probably not even one of the "us," but just the same. you have
portrayed here such a warm, airy, commiserated work. i felt the sandy heat that sometimes appears in your prose. it is a taste in the mouth, and a dabbling with the senses, and each time, always, there is some obscure, sub rosa, seductiveness. that same damp sexuality.
"a taste and texture luscious
cubed mangoes anoint my mouth"

along other lines, you also always seem to incorporate some seemingly ill-placed ornament, though, when read, it appears to be nestled deeply into the grains of the very poem. now, "ill-placed" is so very ignorant of me, but, hey, i am just the average reader, with little knowledge of "things", so my perceptions are indeed distorted. when i see "sponged softly, white cinnamon bread / washed and warmed, black tea" i am delighted, and at the same time i ask my brain: "brain, i feel that tea (assumingly hot - ha!) is so
very out of place when a scene of sands and warm air is described."

Do you know what i am saying, afterall? yes you do! i am awkwardly passing my undiluted acknowledgements of your work to you: the things i see that i do not see elsewhere, the strangeties that you may not have noticed, since it is your own mind that creates these words, and finally the grand effort that it should take to perform an opus with all of these things in perfect correspondence, and the amount of effort that you seemingly accomplish this with (that being, little; as if it all came from a free-flowing source).

whew, again you
skyOrange Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2001

morning meditations weaved and interlaced beautifully, your words. tickling senses, removing tension and allowing calmness to move within. flower power child..

jsenn Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2001
Sometimes your words are perfection, "the day holds in its folds." Can there be a more perfect expression for the possibilities of a day in all it's unexpected nuance, it's unplanned motion gliding like the dance in and out of the fabric of our lives.

You and I have been playing with words in the MSN box. I laughed so hard, but I began to read this poem and the muscles of my neck relaxed right there in golden full rising.... I sat with you on the floor listening to the sounds of your desert, music mingling with luscious simple food, washed and warmed. All the elements of life and happiness are here, air, food, water, energy, and a centeredness I often hear in your words which makes me sit back and listen again to thoughts which are never stagnant but always contain a sense of expectation. Your creativity is astounding, your expressions and words are like honey in the throat.
ammegand Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2001   Interface Designer
otherworldly. beautiful.

Do not fear mistakes. There are none.
- Miles Davis
sillygirl35126 Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2001
so surprising, how this created so many of those neato feelings that are never given names... numero uno, they're too sacred for labels y numero dos, they're only from within.
A very talented portraying of such. I'm very fond of this poem.

And ye harm none, do what ye will
meglocrush Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2001
this is so pretty. every single word fits perfectly. i love the internal rhymes too. you have a great talent for creating beautiful images in the reader's mind.

(im not as eem as you think i am)
faithwalker Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2001  Student Photographer
You make me want to quit writing because this is so accomplished!

Because the has a induction like hypnosis or drugs.


Fella, the deviantART Mascot

miss-conception Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2001
evocative and elegant words. i could feel the taste of mangoes syrup-ing thickly in my mouth.. i really love the richness of the atmosphere; very ingenious - how your presence astounds the "visiting weeds" - i liked that.~

alluring as always, mari. your portrayal of "a poet's two seconds of bliss" is a pure extension of joy for readers. undeniably. ;) (Wink)

locussolus Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2001
gorgeous. that moment of indecision, and what it brought out here, in this poem, beautiful.

still, calm. the oasis of your prescence. sun rising. so many great images.

i like everything about it.
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