
Cicada Chrysalis – unknown artist
sleeps seventeen years
when earth hums her waking tone
sheds her scarf to sing
Cicada Chrysalis – unknown artist
sleeps seventeen years
when earth hums her waking tone
sheds her scarf to sing
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
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Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
painfull but beautiful lines
thanks for sharing
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and thanks for commenting
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It was a pleasure i enjoy your words each time i pass by
please accept my regards
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Oh yes. Spot on. Strange how haiku concentrates the mind.
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it’s why I like the form – it’s a formidable challenge
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@jackspratt823: Well said.
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thanks, kitty
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I have recently allowed cicadas to guide night meditations….pretty neat!
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I can see how that would work
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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This is fab
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glad you liked it
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I really like this one, Paul! “Sheds her scarf to sing” is my favorite line. Beautiful!
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thank you kindly, rachel
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Beautiful poem. 17 years of sleep sounds good right now.
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interesting to think that’s probably how much the average 70 year old has been asleep in his/her life
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Lovely. There is something so magical about when they reappear! ❤
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and oh what a concert they make
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Yes! Incredible. Then again, they never get that close to my house…I’ve heard some of my friends complain about losing sleep over them.
One time we took my daughter to the playground during their cycle, and every surface of the equipment – we actually had to leave!
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Fascinating! I think I read this in John Berger’s book – I can’t recall which one – that Cicadas are actually souls of poets who didn’t express their poetry in their previous life and so, they are so noisy..
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what a fascinating thought
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