Wednesday, May 10, 2006


Its not cruelty
that makes me linger
upon your breathless impatience.

Its part mastery
fingertip control
the striking of taut piano strings.

Its part pleasure
Lost to time and space
Semibreves and quavers of whorls and ridges.

Its part imagination
I am you am me
a span shuddered by unison souls.

As dewdrop to the mighty seas,
A linger to your fevered please.


Blogger _Soulless_ said...

And temperature rises... *slow grin* Now you've got my throat all parched. Heehee. ^_^ Your words here have a certain caress -- in terms of both image and sound. (And I like reading them out loud, practice a little more, relishing the pauses.) ^_^

Thursday, May 11, 2006 12:53:00 PM  
Blogger Crunchy Weta said...

Here, drink from this chalice of ambrosia, bound to cure whatever ails ya.
Thanks for dropping by :-)

Friday, May 12, 2006 5:38:00 AM  
Blogger bradford said...

. your touch leaves prints as flowing images grow connections . .

Sunday, May 14, 2006 9:03:00 AM  
Blogger Crunchy Weta said...

Hi Bradford, Thanks for dropping by, I'm goin to pop over to your place for a cuppa and a read soon.

Monday, May 15, 2006 5:29:00 AM  
Blogger Dana said...

Semibreves and quavers of whorls and ridges

This line is remarkable. I am jealous.

Friday, June 23, 2006 7:49:00 AM  
Blogger Crunchy Weta said...

Twas a delicate touch indeed. Thank you Lynn. Will be dropping by your blog soon for a read and a cuppa. Cheers

Friday, June 23, 2006 9:09:00 PM  

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