The leaves inside my heart by Azelina Flint

PUBLISHED: 14:28 23 July 2010 | UPDATED: 17:37 20 February 2013

A poem inspired by the Clevedon Coastline

The leaves inside my heart

Inspired by the Clevedon Coastline.

I have laid my head upon the grass while feathers dripped around my face

From nests above in mystic fall with stillborn air in breath encased,

Turning crochet in the light, chequered through the fretwork base,

Shafted from dismantled clouds that rent their air in feathered waste amid the silhouetted leaves,

And in the feathered fallen stars I saw the leaves inside my heart,

That quiver in the atmosphere - was all that throbs and beats in here,

My eyes gazed vapid to the dust, the glints that stir through hidden gusts

Of roving tremors in the eye, the hinted heavens nearby.

Alone and empty on the ground where dwindling thoughts rebuked the sound

I lay as nothing but feathered showers that, tangled through the grass blade cowered, in pieces from a sky

That dropped and overpowered - all the pupil lids defied, and all the lips had loured.

We were the moss upon the wall, the vacant waste of eyes,

Dispersing from the breezes pall, and vanished from the skies.

I read into the unmoved space the meaning of my inmost,

A sky that shunted in its face my underlying soul-notes

Of the voice unheard with wind lips blurred that conferred on withered tree-tips

To dote amid the trellis bound in bright emblazoned coats around the verdant tendrils bending, found

That soaked with blood the clouds were crowned, when fitful wind-fits struck the ground.

I rode into the sky- there was a patch of pink, that kissed my lashes dewed to cry

Into the raindrops sinking in the spotless distance brinking on the verge- of the sunsets swelling surge,

Winking into light, and blinking into sight.

I saw the chambers seed of my dissembled deeps,

Spoken from the freefall where the boundless silence seeps.

In second sight I dropped the plumb, to probe the ceaseless sinking thrum,

Plucking fingers out to strum- along the billows spuming lung

Lunging in the swathes of sun- to pour submerging light among

The bursting dayspring, wiltered dun.

Into the second dawn we find- the unspun spiritually fine,

And along the fringes of the path- we turn and spin the hour-glass.

And we have seen the haunts of trees where torpid spirits warp the leaves,

We have seen the severed skies that pillaged prisms from your eyes.

We have reached into the gale, and shaped it to the breathless quail,

And we have graven in the earth the cords of the equators girth.

We read deep into the still our hearts convulsing overkill,

And bleed the soulless dregs to find- the ruined flotsam of the mind.

We have shook the prisoned core to spawn the heart-stones dwindling spore,

And laid interred upon the face- a monolith pared down to waste,

And hoped the eye-wells breaking tears would fracture as the lid careers,

To drown that coldness that we cried; to weep caged boulders from the eyes.

But Ill remember how you lie: to transform garden-hearts that tie

across the cloud-spooled beds of sky,

You feel from veins beneath the ground and innovate the world around

to make it speak without a sound,

To drink from dew-cups rained from sight that tremble through a breaths midnight

You pour out seraphs cupped in light that sprinkle through your outspread hands

To filter lambent streamlined strands, upon the rainbows battered bands.

And Ill remember how the scene streamed through your life an orphic dream

To touch each stem thats ever been- reflected in the lucent-stream.

And Ill think over how you feel- to tie our heart-strings cords that steal

beneath our breasts to spin a reel, of spools to wind our souls to seal

beneath taught strings that ring and peal,

That far into oceanic swells Ill read your face in waves that quelled

beneath the waters spirit-wells.

The shoreline will case up your voice in the fringed lash of its eye-line,

And in its tingling, softly moist, well sing along the tide-line,

The breakers breaking to and fro will mingle our duet

Across the tidal tremors low, inscribing each sunset,

And there our currents will converge beneath the coastlines plaintive dirge

To souls that have released their eyes, stirred up to share in each sunrise,

For we have shared in worlds weve drank, in one another ebbed and sank

to meet upon the spirit bank,

So I will look into your eyes to see horizons meet with tides- and know that in the stratosphere

we upwards brave the last frontier.

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