Artist

Alexander Averin

Sunday 5 February 2012

Word Clouds




Word Clouds 


I own two passions now: watching clouds and 

writing words. Hours fly, courting clouds, writing 

poems in my mind, for what are clouds and words 

but poets' fuel to warm their souls upon?

Cirrus, stratus, cumulus or mare’s tail; 

in such clouds, words seem hazy, nebulous 

and misty to my mind; there are no lines 

to read myself between, I can only 

go within and listen to their whispers.

Words are scudding sounds of speech when spoken, 

but silent when written, except to my 

heart where they can speak in volumes, or if 

days are sadly overcast, they hide from 

me and say nothing, nothing at all.



Cait O’Connor 



8 comments:

Dave King said...

Before I took to writing poetry (only a few years back) I had two passions: watercolour painting and studying the sky - which, when you think about it, largely meant clouds - so I can appreciate your post on several levels.

Tracy Golightly-Garcia said...

Hello Cait

Lovely poem!

My daughter and I love clouds. She is always asking me--mama what does that cloud look like. I love it!!

Have a great day.

Best
Tracy :)

Ruth said...

I love the silence here. To feel movement, to see meaning, to understand something in the heart, all in poetic observation… This is beauty!

Frances said...

Thank you for this poem, Cait.

Words and clouds pair well together.

As I finished reading your poem, my eye was drawn to the margin where I see that the moon is just about full. The concept of waxing and waning might also apply to our ability to summon words?

xo

ds said...

Your words warm my soul. Thank you.

Reading Tea Leaves said...

Cait, you are such a gifted poet. I love this. Two passions expressed in a wonderful connection. One of your finest.

Jeanne
x

Vee said...

Scudding thoughts like scudding clouds...you've got that right...both are so quick to move on. Lovely, Cait, really! When are you publishing your book of poetry?

Carah Boden said...

'Words are scudding sounds of speech when spoken,

but silent when written, except to my

heart where they can speak in volumes,'...

...I love these lines Cait. They speak volumes to me too.