You found me
earthbound
picked me up
nurtured timid buds
kissed, coaxed
until they bloomed
into wings spread
wide enough to soar
But I am not the angel
you say I am
I am only a bird
not sedentary
enough to resist
the urge to migrate
passing every toadstool
and tree stump
in a passionate flyway
to your longitude
loving a season
until the next
staying until the air
bears just a hint of cool
Tess Kincaid
June 2011
image: Endeavor, Lino Tagliapietra, Columbus Museum of Art
beautiful confessional and invocation
ReplyDeleteI would love to see the installation.
Best wishes
Isabel
I'm sure you ARE that angel, but a sedentary one also.
ReplyDeleteOh to be able to fly Tess - through the ages man has longed to do this. Maybe birds similarly long to be able to wander about as we do.
ReplyDeleteLove the perserverance of this..the feeling of going on and on!!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Tess... I love the first two stanzas.
ReplyDeletequite delicous!
ReplyDelete...there is a fervent feeling of sadness and joy between those lines... and your title for me is quite intriguing... i must read it deeper the second time... thanks for the photo prompt this week.(:
ReplyDeleteBrightest blessings!
~Kelvin
Tess, this is simply beautiful ... love 'passing every toadstool and tree stump' ... reality infused with fantasy.
ReplyDeleteDear Tess: "I Can Fly" too after reading this spirited flight.
ReplyDeleteLove the lines;
kissed, coaxed
until they bloomed
Send off reminds me how to nuture like a flower, a child. And we are all children!
your words always cause my soul to sing...amazing.
ReplyDeleteI really like this - the flights of fancy.
ReplyDeleteHere's my Magpie: Afloat
Love the way how it takes me into a another world, like I'm seeing the bird that is flying, or better yet, feeling how the little creature does feel.
ReplyDeleteChocks away!
ReplyDeletelayers and layer of the poem mirroring the layers of tagliapietra's amazing piece!
ReplyDeleteKind of a longing feeling to it for me. Really good! Fly now...
ReplyDeleteSoul flights, heart journey,
ReplyDeletepaean to the spiritual energy
of the the universe, turning
dream wings into emotional
volition; like the lines:
/when the air bears just
a hint of cool/, though it
looks a little odd your
winged creature in red
woolies.
Lovely, Tess!
ReplyDeleteGlenn, yes, a bird with a huge wingspan and red woolly socks. If you ever see one, you'll know it's me.
ReplyDeleteReally beautiful, loved the reference to not being an angel.
ReplyDeleteI like this one, Tess ...
ReplyDeleteI am afraid I am so sedentary, I could never lift off. I love your poem.
ReplyDeleteSuch a gift you have ~
ReplyDeleteLove this "But I am not the angel
ReplyDeleteyou say I am". We both were thinking angels and birds today : )
"...staying until the the air bears just a hint of cool..."
ReplyDeleteI love the varied meanings that this line speaks and lends to the poem itself!
Rick
wonderful as always.
ReplyDeleteand I'm so in awe . you have brevity, depth,
earthly
soaring
and inspirational abilities.
into wings wide enough to soar - yes, I like it very much.
ReplyDeleteif one had wings, i think it'd be very easy to fly away.
ReplyDeletei'll bet that's a nice art museum you've got there, huh?
Dear Tess, I just wanted you to know that your poem is the inspiration for my latest mag 71 post. Somehow the moment I read yours the poem rushed in my mind as one whole piece. Thanks for all the encouragement.I love your poems.
ReplyDeleteSome lovely lines here, Tess--well done, as always.
ReplyDeleteOf course you can fly, Ms. Tess.
ReplyDeleteNo longer earthbound
but like
the multichromed butterfly
you take leave
and rise.
Is there any ONE of us who does not have the urge to 'fly-the-coop' on occasion?
ReplyDeleteAnd some of us Peeps GET to do just that, but it takes a certain will power to simply trot off into the blue sky. I know. I have flown.
Love your poetry, Tess Kincaid! I believe you ARE that angel--grin!
Hi Tess, I really love this image and would love to know if it is of a painting or what it is. I did a bit of change to it on my post. I very much enjoyed your poem. I can see it may be fishing lours, by your take on the bird. Have a great week. :)
ReplyDeletebeautiful--your poetry and the work in that order-c
ReplyDeleteI just found you through Vicki Archer blog, what a treat for me!
ReplyDeleteI love this. Love for a season until the air turns cool. Unable to resist the urge to migrate. Nourished until you spread your wings to fly. This tells a bitter sweet story.
ReplyDeleteBirds are some of my favorite creatures. And you have well conveyed their sense of sweetness.
ReplyDeletetess,
ReplyDeletei love this!!
xxx
This is exceptional Tess so raw and honestly I love it!
ReplyDeleteSo lovely, Tess. I can feel the rhythm and the need to move!
ReplyDelete'loving a season
ReplyDeleteuntil the next' captures the essence of a capricious, whimsical being - or just one governed by instinct.
lovely ode to flying
ReplyDeleteI am trying to fly too. The weather is making it so much easier! Great post, Lori
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Tess!
ReplyDeleteThis is one of my favorites of our many wonderful poems. Kudos!
ReplyDeleteI believe!
ReplyDeleteA butterfly, here today and gone tomorrow. Ephemeral and fleeting, like so many of the most beautiful sights on earth.
ReplyDeletewonderful images. it feels like a love poem.
ReplyDeletetess i am caught inside these words:
ReplyDelete"I am only a bird
not sedentary
enough to resist
the urge to migrate"...
oh my!! steven
love the imagery of this post ~
ReplyDeletebest line is:
But I am not the angel you say I am
Nice to meet you~
Thanks for posting this picture. I have been searching for something like that for a long time. It speaks of me... With a little twist as Rick commented on my post...
ReplyDeleteLove ur interpretation!
JJRod'z
well written well read well struck well deep well done
ReplyDeleteHmm! The image makes me think of Maple seeds with their golden wing, or the almost transparent winged Hogweed seeds both just waiting for that right moment to let go...Cheers!
ReplyDeleteA lot of delicate, beautiful phrases in here!
ReplyDeleteIt's in all of us, I am sure: the desire to fly. We dream and have fantasies about it. The poem puts it well. It's strong and clear.
ReplyDeleteHow difficult to separate the person from the Beloved; to distinguish angel wing from proletarian bicep and forearm. Ditto all the other equipage, especially the heart, which is not a heaven or the deep blue sea another person can take residence in (or worse, try to take home and put on a shelf with the other bras and shoes one has connived to possess. Yes, the speaker can fly, but only for a certain distance and time. What is life and love but migration isle to isle of our hearts' great main? Lovely work, Tess. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Tess!
ReplyDeleteYour words are always beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
beautiful. sublime. amazing.
ReplyDelete"...a feather on the breath of God.." as the abbess Hildegarde von Bingen said.
ReplyDeleteYou can fly...and you've taken us with you, Tess. Wonderful stuff!
ReplyDeleteI am so enjoying your work and interacting with you, Tess. I'd be interested in reviewing Patina on my blog-- let me know. xxxj
ReplyDeleteJen, of course, I would be delighted for you to review Patina. Thank you, dear friend!
ReplyDeleteI love the picture! They are like balloon hammocks. Like sketches of birds, but not one of the same feather!
ReplyDeleteEvery wild creature should wander. It is not a character flaw! And we were born wild, though many of us do our best to self-domesticate.
:-)
To fly, oh, yes! An exciting read...
ReplyDeleteLovely tess.. I always enjoy reading your poetry
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, everyone, for your lovely comments. I have the best readers in the blogosphere. The best. xo
ReplyDeleteTess Ma'am,
ReplyDeleteHow beautiful it is to soar over the skies.The brilliant colors and more so your accompanying soliloquy is most mesmerising and it just lingers on.
This is lovely, Tess.
ReplyDeleteThis is open to so many interpretations; and a sense of both relief and regret.
ReplyDelete:)
This is open to so many interpretations; and a sense of both relief and regret.
ReplyDelete:)
Great poem, Tess.... am dying to know what that is a picture of. What are those things?
ReplyDeleteEach line exquisitely crafted. Sometimes I want to be in your head!
ReplyDelete