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THE PASSING |
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Nov 28 03, 04:02
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,660
Joined: 23-August 03
From: Somerset, England
Member No.: 22
Real Name: Grace
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
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THE PASSING
A blood-red crescent crowns the mountain top, silently stealing the night.
Silky soft ether caresses his face- ancient, leathered and weathered by countless suns.
His closed eyes filter the new light through almost translucent lids, withered arms remain outstretched, beseeching his spirit ancestors to share Eternity with him.
The gentle breeze strengthens, lifting and rummaging beneath his cloak of aged buffalo hide, inquisitively fingering the parchment skin stretched drum-tight over bones as old as memory.
Motionless, he sits in trance through many phases of the Moon; a shell from which all life but breath has fled, patiently awaiting The Passing.
Suddenly, an eagle soars, its spirit whispering on the wind, in final answer to his chant.
“All rights reserved by GRACE Galton as an unpublished work”
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Dec 1 03, 20:20
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Mosaic Master
Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep
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Just beautiful Grace.
Glad to see you now consider this one polished as I did!
Lovely!
Hugaroooos! ~Cleo :cloud9: :operagal:
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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Jan 24 04, 02:30
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 1,547
Joined: 4-August 03
From: Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Member No.: 13
Real Name: Daniah
Writer of: Poetry
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Grace,
This is truly an engaging write... Impeccable images...
Daniah
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Jan 27 04, 03:21
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,660
Joined: 23-August 03
From: Somerset, England
Member No.: 22
Real Name: Grace
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
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Dear Eisa,
Sorry to be late in replying but I hope you'll understand.
Thank you for reading this one. It was inspired by a single feather I found on a country walk and the memory of an old western fim seen at least forty years ago. Glad you enjoyed it.
Love
Grace
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Jan 27 04, 03:25
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,660
Joined: 23-August 03
From: Somerset, England
Member No.: 22
Real Name: Grace
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
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Dear Daniah,
I apologise for my tardiness in answering your kind comments.
This, I think is one of my better pieces. I am quite pleased with the way it turned out.
Love
Grace
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Jan 27 04, 03:29
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,660
Joined: 23-August 03
From: Somerset, England
Member No.: 22
Real Name: Grace
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
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QUOTE Awwwww Grace.
What a delightful ride your poem takes us on! Your word-pics carry the reader on our own little motors with senses gliding along through all the dips and climbs to arrive at a perfectly perfect ending!!
Lovely poem, your Lady-ship!
Warm blessings,
Dolly
Hello Dolly,
Why, thank you Ma'am, I am so pleased you enjoyed this one. It is a subject that fascinates me Dolly.
Love
Grace
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Jan 29 04, 16:47
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 1,250
Joined: 2-August 03
From: USA
Member No.: 7
Writer of: Poetry
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QUOTE (Cybele @ Nov. 28 2003, 03:02) THE PASSING
A blood-red crescent crowns the mountain top, silently stealing the night.
Silky soft ether caresses his face- ancient, leathered and weathered by countless suns.
His closed eyes filter the new light through almost translucent lids, withered arms remain outstretched, beseeching his spirit ancestors to share Eternity with him.
The gentle breeze strengthens, lifting and rummaging beneath his cloak of aged buffalo hide, inquisitively fingering the parchment skin stretched drum-tight over bones as old as memory.
Motionless, he sits in trance through many phases of the Moon; a shell from which all life but breath has fled, patiently awaiting The Passing.
Suddenly, an eagle soars, its spirit whispering on the wind, in final answer to his chant.
“All rights reserved by GRACE Galton as an unpublished work” Hello Grace~
This is such a striking and haunting poem filled with so much love and pain.
Your words are genuine and passionate as you bring me to tears with your resounding metaphors.
God bless you Grace, and may you always keep your lovely husband's memory alive with your extraordinary writing.
Blessings~ Lindi
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