All fruit at sunset is fire
and air above the ground,
I walk the darkness of a tree
falling asleep with aqua words.
I drift in a black silence with the burning,
scorched and spelt in spirit.
Momentary silence,
the perpetual smoke.
I listen to the chimes; clinking
like promises,
and existence throughout the course of the winter.
The words don't fit. They rarely do.
By Tom Merriman
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wordsandthoughtspjs 
This is just wonderful! I wish I wrote it! Thank you so much!
Just the sentence burning darkness pulls me in.. this is just wonderfully done. Winter is exactly like this…
That first line is wonderous!
Really well wordled.
Wow… what a wonderful poem. The imagery pulls the reader in, and the last stanza is quite a finish… I breathe in the point of view and then, I hear the chimes…
I listen to the chimes; clinking
like promises,
and existence throughout the course of the winter.
Wonderfully well-woven, as your images slide one into another like those of a dream…Good stuff, Pamela,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/
The words well woven. Delightful
This is so captivating….has a mystical quality to it.
Yes, it does have a dream like the feel of a walk through abandoned streets in winter.
This is a poem of alchemy and survival…it made me think of coal…how strong it is to keep the flames alive…
This is lovely.These lines really struck me as exquisite:
I listen to the chimes; clinking
like promises,
and existence throughout the course of the winter.
I listen to the chimes; clinking
like promises,
and existence throughout the course of the winter.
Great ending Pamelita! So much to expect in winter. Good promises will come through. It has a way of making itself happen! Wonderful lines!
Hank