At the Bay Window

At the Bay Window

 

The canted bay window arches shut – shutters left undrawn –

And molting quills pantomime wordless syllables

Splayed across reaching panels.

 

Body intimations dawdle as the

Padding and pillows below recount the muscle memory

And remember the sunbathed books read by he, stretching prone.

 

Sealing out water, wind, dust for light in the alcove,

Nonporous glass filters out impurities of her love

Straining out its purest form by sweat of her undaunted wings.

 

Shy, small bird cants and hovers in the prow of arches shut,

Wings ever at brandishing row, slave to shape of infinity,

Trembling in ruby-throated scales, maybe in need of calibration.

 

Thrumming wordless syllables, throbbing in silence,

Thrashing noiselessly behind soundproof barrier,

At first glance, for the pottery bunching table cloth into crease,

 

But not for illusions of flowers to be tied as corsage in wedding vase does she persist

Forever is not for man and a small bird, proportioned pygmy by comparison, though

Endowed iridescently in glow of mottled breast and bewitching color mist,

 

She’s breaking at the pane, oh but for the sweet of his lips!

 

Having known the piercing of stem spurs, of kissing petals rejecting pleas for betrothal,

His painted eyes, offering an enchanting proposal, in pointillist motes of glinted debris,

Swept her by daydream, behind the window, and detached her from dusty honeysuckle leaves.

 

Yet the canted bay window arches shut – shutters to be drawn –

And her quills are molting, and he sits there yawning

While her wings span the panels, fawning and fanning.

 

But not for nectar from the vase, but for another savoring of

What tastes like love in his face, does she hover there.

But will ever his lips care a tender kiss to share?

 

© 2014. Asha Gowan. All Rights Reserved.

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Asha Gowan

I am an aspiring poet, novelist, musician, visual artist, and a die hard jazz enthusiast (partial to writing). I did not have a choice in the matter as both of my parents are creative to the core. Van Gogh beautifully painted the artist's portrait with his words: "The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others." I've made that ideal the primary catalyst for my work. Born as one of nature's esthetes, beauty is the goal of every song, every poem, every piece of art. Beauty that will touch the hearts and minds of others. I try to design my art to be healing and empathetic. I study and find intriguing people of all kinds, which informs a lot of my insights. I've drawn inspiration on the art of positivity, of spiritual uplifting from writers like Throeau, John Muir, Ohiyesa (Charles Eastman), the psalmist David, etc. Seeking a unique verve in my style, I make thorough investigations of all sorts of art and challenge myself to the hilt for the growth of my ingenuity. I am eager to share my musings with everyone here and wish to disseminate them. Thank you!