There you stand, my dear, with the question
of your heart still fresh upon your lips, and I know
you fear my answer, but, hush, first─
...
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You keep the readers spellbound! ! Thanks for sharing such magical poems! !
I am ever so pleased to provide a few moments of magic for such an esteemed and admired colleague. Be blessed my dear Bharati!
I love the title, I love the way it appears suddenly in lines 1-2, I love the way it becomes a recurring image of tenderness, and I love the breathless state I was in as gorgeous imagery poured over me but the question of the heart was not answered. And the scene moved on in time with a Yeatsian andante rhythm with the question dragging behind. I got so caught up in this imagery pouring into me, I did not see any answer to the question but that's OK because as Yeats put in an early poem about a breakup, Our lives are love, and a continuous farewell.
My good Daniel, your astute insight is as unerring as ever in identifying the intentional non-disclosure of the particular question, instead allowing it to stand for any and every question that shadows our hearts when we stand in the presence of new love. We are faced with the decision of proceeding with our intellect or with our hearts, and the two paths diverge to distinct realities. (and, as always, you provide the perfect literary nexus to open additional layers of contemplation) Thank you for your consistently brilliant perspectives (and also for the tip on Pessoa, I have spent an absolutely lovely afternoon at the Museu da Cerveja's cafe overlooking the beautiful Praca do Comercio and the sea, filling up on Fernando Pessoa and espresso. It has been a bit chilly, but the sun was wondrously warm and the coffee steaming hot.) Thanks again!
Seamus this one draws you in the captures your imagination wonderfully, at your last Hush, my dearest, I felt my head tilt sidewards as if to rest it upon an invisable shoulder. Great write....Enjoy your Christmas season. Annette
My dear Annette, it is my privilege for you to step into this vision I had of the questions that confront our hearts when love appears mysteriously in our lives. To suggest that sometimes (but, not always) the heart can be trusted more than the mind. That the subject in my vision is offering his heart as surety for any questions his love might have, hoping more than anything that her reaction will be just as your impulse was, to rest her head upon his shoulder and find her answers upon his lips. :) S