Because we all want to write more poems.
Mudbar
Beside the dirt-and-gravel road
recent rains have cut a little stream
into the settling contour of a swelling rise.
Here the slowing rivulet, calming now
(water, too, fears to fall, grabs frantically for purchase)
relaxes its desperate grip on loads of sediments.
A growing tongue of brown silt
extends in gaping compliance:
a doctor’s Aaah of release.
I watch this mudbar lengthen with the days
observe its grainy leading edge
folded down to touch the streambed.
How tempted I am to touch it,
to feel its soft surface, rub its fines
between fingers and thumb!
But I resist, deny myself that human urge
to touch, that endless hunger
of the web of tactile sense;
there is a beauty that persists only undisturbed,
a truth that can’t survive
the ravenous carnal greed.
The eyes alone can drink, unfeeling,
and clever ears may catch
the tiny music of water.
- Benjamin Gorman's Shared Poems
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Comments
Michele McFadden
December 20, 2012
Permalink
Mudbar
Beautiful and powerful. Ah yes, we so want to possess. Better left to just be admired.