Leaving Paris, 1882
Chenilled sundew tentacles sweep
Beauty’s dynamic echoes towards
peaceful kind smiles, resting
Graphed gazes on shoulders, eyes, lips
Hazy apostrophes slide, slip
Afield from laughter, pause
To think, feel, listen, kiss again
Envisioning elegant love
Before and after, now
Sparkling lily dust brews such sweet
Music, a dancing diving fall
Remembered only, then
♡Anastasia Z. Cunningham
06-29-2020
5 thoughts on "Leaving Paris, 1882"
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Love the sounds, beginning with line 1. Poem reminds of the surrealists, Picasso, Magritte.
Thank you so much! The surrealists definitely have an impact on my poetry😁♥️
I remember leaving many place across the world, Anastasia,
with each one coming back to me at odd times. Enjoyed this…
Thank you for reading my poetry. Yes, memory is an oddly challenging “thing” that we humans have to grapple with. For me, the only place I can contain it seems to be in my poetry.
Thank you for reading my poetry. Yes, memory is an oddly challenging “thing” that we humans have to grapple with. For me, the only place I can contain it seems to be in my poetry.