Rosetta Stone

The poet

Speaks in language

At once graphic & archaic

Intending meaning

Parabolic

 

The reed

Bruised but unbroken

In the just Creator’s hand

What fallen soul won’t

Understand? 

 

The key

To deciphering poetry

Lies not in towers of academe

But on the worn mantle

Of familiarity

 

Heart wounds

That are finally incurable

Or love’s pressed wild flowers

In the creases of the soul

Interpret all

 

The heart

Holds the hieroglyphics

By which all the disingenuities

Of both minds & mouths

Are laid bare

Advertisements

About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Rosetta Stone

  1. masterful metaphors

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s