Iceveldt V – Golden Moments

kornel ravadits-budapest-images

It was the gold of the lamps that I remember best
their lambent light glowing in the soft air
and the gold of the setting sunstars reflecting on the warm stones
of the Great Hall of the Ancients
even the parapets looked drizzled with honey
We gathered
hovering
in that time of Song and rejoicing
to take our place with the clouds and mountaintops and stars
and there seemed to be no more obstacles
no end to our triumphs
and I weep a little for those golden moments
rising like bubbles in the crystal wine flutes we raised
and just as fragile
Deep thoughts on so fair a morning
as I sail past

*artwork by kornel ravadits/budapest images*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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