Monday, March 25, 2013

A Poem by Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan

the sand grain witness

the sand.  the sand grain desert sand.  a wind sweeps along
an arid earth, takes it in its mouth to satisfy its desire for

moisture.  with blinded eyes, it seeks the darkness in the
light.  it moves in a circular motion, walks sideways to

feel its shadow; losing itself on the crest of a dune, the
shadow in the depth of a sea; so drowns the moisture;

a prophet man sows the sand, reaps the grain; under the
silence of the sun.  he breathes the rain, brushes his hand

along the desert texture, his fingers paint his face.  he does
not seek the false truth.  speaks with a languid artesian well

voice.  he eats the night air, he is not afriad.  crosses a barren
land like a child's pull toy; the heat fills his sandals with cold

from desolation; his soul dangles from a watch chain; the
timepiece glass cracks from a second hand ticking backwards,

backwards.  rest he bequests in an oasis, the mirage envelopes;
thin, fragile layers of imagination tempt him, hunger kisses him,

he eats the fruit, sown in the cold desolation of his desert soul
willing time forward; seeking to leave the gritty reality of barrenness,

moisture seeping slowly into a body desiccated from
the journey across the sandy desert his live had become

feels once again the warm coursing of hope through
a heart cold and empty

startles at the rhythm of his heart; remembering the beat of life
long denied from too much pain barely endured

the sand shifting as he moves again
wind gentle with the music not heard for so long

movement forcing hiim over the last dune
out of the frozen heat and back into

a landscape painted by colors
of a life to be lived.

Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan began writing poetry together in January of 2013. Having penned almost a dozen poems in visual freestyle, eight of those have been accepted into numerous journals. What other poets are saying about their writing, "you send the reader on a journey through his own soul;” "symbolically thought provoking"; "the imagery is amazing;" and, “this is a sort of writing which deliberately flouts grammatical structure and any form of restriction. It is not words. It is more music you relax to, curl up listening with an abstract ear.” All of their writings are in Visual Freestyle Works® ’We sift the human storm, the life storm, through the dust and debris of their souls, animating it into thoughts and words. And then we write, not guessing where it might go, exhaling our last breath toward the light.'

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