Dust Comments

I used to hate dust but you managed to give it a whole new perspective. well done!

Hi ONElia, I have read this poem again today and thinking about seventh and 8th sense.

Another beautiful meditation on an everyday thing - you add mystery and atmosphere to all you look at, One. x Jan

Too much of dust and dusty room looks haunted only...no wonder you're afraid of a ghost...nice poem

Why do you insist, you are alone? It is proved: Most of the skin - once shed becomes 'house dust'... Very delicate and fine verses, ONElia. A thin line between seen and unseen.......10.

Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life and that you have proven by writing such a beautiful poem.....

amazing, wow, beautiful with little words you said alot well done 10 from me

your poem... force me to close my eyes... thinking that all comes from the dust....your such a very talented poet... who give what our eyes can see.... perfect.... be with me closing our eyes...10+

Dust is the evidence of someone`s presence... nice logic. Last stanza is mysterious with sixth/ninth sense. As a whole, a small & beautiful poem.10.

mystic...nice one.........

An unusual topic - well penned - dust as a ghost- fantastic-

Memories even in dust or dusty memories? The un-insisted presence doesn’t haunt that much, I think...mysteriously impressive…*10*

aaahhh, Onelia, you hit it with that first line.... Dust, such an emotive subject to write about, from Dust we are created to dust we return, and in the spaces inbetween we try hard to exist. On a mote of dust You carried me into your universe That appeared insignificant to others But was my entire existence.

She stuffed his things into a box, closed her heart and changed the locks but in its tawdry dust there lay their hopes, her dreams, his DNA. As elegant and original as always, One. Fx

Onelia, you are a mystical poet. All is dust if the heart doesn’t respond. On the eyes imprints numberless, On the dust the footprints impress; So long as the heart does not record, No sense can ever bliss afford.

Within the flash of cyber-lightening: within the grasp of a neurotic sneeze an eyelash got into my eye and a ghost did what he please.... Capital P.

Now this is exceptionally cleverly written. There are so many possible points of philosophical departure yet you keep to the philosophy of whimsy. What is hinted at speaks volumes. Rgds, Ivan

I love the opening line - it hooked me immediately and that first stanza set the tone for the rest of the poem. Remnants of the past are there if we just take a moment to acknowledge them. This poem has a gentle rhythm and plays quite a haunting melody if you tune into the sounds. j x

Dust is what is left of passed sensible experiences. There's Eugenio Montale who wrote a little like here in his 'Satura', but is less physical and less clever, even though he won a Nobel prize! Then as doctor I'd have to take care of these resources.

You got me with the first line Onelia! ! ! They say you should make a wish on a fallen eyelash... hope you did, perhaps then you dusty companion might spring back to life with eyelashes fluttering... HG: -) xx