Poetess Bio: I am Christina Pelton, currently resided in a college town in Washington State, in the U.S.A. I am just a poet, cellist, freelance artist and I teach art for a living. I am also a hermit and a warrior in this battle between the illusory and the unreality. I am addicted to silence and privacy.

christina

When the winds wept and the sky mourned,
myriads of stars showered like meteoric rains.
A swan alighted on the crystalline indigo lake
alone, veiled in the forlorn night’s mystery–
gracefully glided over the water as she had glided
over the lives of many –her children:
so to bequeath the endurance of legacy
shone as the lake glistened in the moonlight.
Drawing waves reminiscent
laughter; a sorrow in the gloam wake.
She muted to give the lyric
which her children qualm their own melodies.
Oblivious to her own suffering;
beset by hardship —
her head up in glory and surrendering to the mutation
with a consummated dignity.
Now she was the queen of the night’s ethereal blue;
crowned with an invisible golden halo– my mother!
O, when did you go without saying farewell?

 

There,
buried in oblivion –
alone and laid cold in the ICU
wending away in just two days,
you have gone without tarry!
I laid by your side for the final time,
merely to breathe the sweet scent of you.
The sea of spring colors was full to the brim,
my eyes fraught with salty brine;
spring slipped into the snow-clad and winter mound.
Now that you were the queen of the night’s ethereal blue;
glided over the crystalline lake,
rest and reposted on your pinioned wings.
O, my Queen
of the liquid night.

 

Etherealize!
you came hollowed in last night,
alighting , majestically from the indigo heaven.
A nimble, benign swan,
humming and strolling along the garden
under the moonlight.
You, released from the physical pains.
Meteors showered in the myriad stars
besprent the fireflies’ light,
lighting up my childhood memories
the air is pervaded by the fragrant garden.
Along the tender willows
Beyond the rose’s bed,
I embraced my queen’s bonny body
eyes fraught with salty brine.

 

O, mother!
Ten thousand suspiration have I been lashed out,
Clashed by fordone, without certitude.
Ensconced in my dour room,
I imbibe sorrows by the ladleful vain.
Round longingly on my instrument,
I glide my bow and draw waves of vibrato poignantly
from my wet red fingers,
my crimson blood dripping from the fingerboard, sounding waves
the swan glides through the liquid night–
now I am the pinioned swan,
but I will never go without saying farewell.

#Christina Pelton

 

 

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