What you can see in raw light is more than a wishful thought,
A mere bribery of the mind and a dream never sought.
The yellow bulb is no light by itself but it gives
The thought you can see, in what stays, in what lives.

Over sea the moon is a lamp but it’s only reflecting the Sun.
Hear the sound of the night and the song of the birds:
Memories shared, told with no words.

A fine day it was when the light has been kind,
Morning and evening, thoughts like flames of the mind,
Pictures were taken and now all is done,
Everyone’s sleeping. The shadows move on.
Raw light is fading as hours go by,
Emerging – the dreams, like birds – how they fly.

Comments on: "Power" (19)

  1. Anonymous said:

    Hi Ina….. what wonderful words….a great depth to this poem. Alan

  2. Beautiful. Injected with all those wonderful subtleties you always manage to get into your verse πŸ™‚

  3. Electrifying at the least, even shocking πŸ™‚

  4. Very very beautiful.

  5. I couldn’t resist the powerful current of poetry…

  6. Ambitious – and it works

  7. This is really good, Ina. The statements that make up the poem are direct and full of images that bring meaning in both the first syllables and the poem as a whole alive.

    • Thank you very much Thomas, I am always amazed how you can put it in your words (and make it almost sound like science πŸ™‚ )

  8. That’s a clever style Ina, does it have a name? The power of your poetry needs no wires or switches, it’s more akin to spring sunlight or summer stars…

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