No Song To Me In The Numb Hours ~ Kenia Cris
imaginarygarden Play It Again, Toads! Imagined By Kerry O’Connor
I Chose Photography Challenge, featuring Kenia Cris, March 3, 2012
A path leads into the heart
into the wooded chambers
winds along in smoky gloom
that rise from dying embers.
It is, I think, the burnt remains
of smoldering ancient dreams
of love unrequited, hopes cast off,
and plans raveled at the seams.
I meet them here occasionally
to reminisce and lament
then dry my eyes and move on
to where time is better spent.
Debi's Poems 
Now thats just lovely…..calming..
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What a place that would is… I think you capture that moment on that bench.
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It is, I think, the burnt remains
of smoldering ancient dreams…
This perfectly conveys the moodiness of the composition.
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Debi, I absolutely love this ❤️ an incredible combination of sadness, longing, regret and wisdom ❤️ not to mention mesmerizing imagery! My favorite from you! Beautifully penned.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
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Thank you, Sanaa
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Lovely work, Debi.
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Hi Debi ~~ I’m liking reading of your “burnt remains of smoldering ancient dreams.” Most who read of how their reminiscence brings the emotions into play. Useless play that we cannot help but have. I would love to write a book about mine. That would entail deep reminiscing, bad for me and who would want to read of it all
My poem has truth for me, my life. It still hurts sometimes after all these years. I looked it over, song wise. Thank you. The fourth verse or similar might be a refrain.
I too used Cris’s photo. I enjoyed looking her poetry and the Deviant Art sites over. You might also. The link on the “Garden” post would have us thinking that she had given up writing, and possibly art and photography.
..
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Thanks Jim. I love Kenia’s work too, poetry and photos. I’ll bet she is a fabulous teacher. Good luck with your song -country or rock – whichever way you lean.
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That’s a great choice of photo, Debi, and you’ve got to the heart of it with your poem, especially with the lines:
‘…the burnt remains
of smoldering ancient dreams
of love unrequited, hopes cast off,
and plans raveled at the seams.
I meet them here occasionally’.
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Thanks Kim
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…then dry my eyes. We all need such a place… (such a red chair)
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