Mark Liston's 'The Bloom Speaks' for Gillian Swain
The poem I want to write is fading from my mind the words I need won’t
float onto a page empty as silence. One or so surfaced phrases flit but
disappear as bubbles vanishing when reaching their freedom
as another sound unborn until a slow meditation
a mantra left to float as lotus flowers in a low dish.
It may allow a blooming idea to be a thought to surface
and gently open to speak.
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