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This World

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This world is a heart
fed from the nuzzle of a mother’s breast.
Its murmur is a father’s gentle song,
one whose arms reach out before a fallen
tear can bury itself in the sand.

Its arteries are our highways, as
opaque as they are to the earth beneath,
without them, are we not pigeons without wings,
moths without a moon?

The blood is love. But blood isn’t love.
No, if we take in one as our own,
it does the same. The world took us in
so long ago.

 

Join us at dVerse Poets Pub as we imagine our own world.

The sky’s the limit..or is it? It’s my pleasure to be hosting this week’s Poetics.

Doors open at 3 p.m.

Image: pixabay.com

14 responses »

  1. I love these beautiful metaphors and evocative images!

    Reply
  2. We do have to trust the world, but can the world trust us?… sooner or later all mother’s expect its children to have learned something.

    Reply
  3. If the world is a heart, it must be breaking.

    Reply
  4. Your descriptions of the parents are so comforting, Mish.

    Reply
  5. Glenn A. Buttkus

    Nice, you managed to speak of the world without the stigma of revealing the dark side; quite a feat.

    Reply
  6. yes we must respect those who have nurtured us …

    Reply
  7. This is such a comforting poem, Mish, with the ‘nuzzle of a mother’s breast’ and ‘a father’s gentle song’. I love the alliteration on ’m’ in the phrase ‘moths without a moon’, as if the world is humming along.

    Reply
  8. I really enjoyed this Mish. ‘Its arteries are our highways’ I love thinking of it that way. 🙂💕

    Reply
  9. That last line is so lovely.

    Reply
  10. Nice description: “moths without a moon”

    Reply
  11. This is really beautifully written, with such tender metaphors.

    Reply
  12. It’s fitting that the heart of your exquisite poem is in the beginning line of the opening stanza, my favorite stanza. I love the visuals you used.

    Reply
  13. The last line wrapped it all up beautifully.

    Reply
  14. Stunning opening stanza, and photo.

    Reply

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