Letter Lines

transformed into existence.
Take the weakest part of
yourself and give it away. Leave
only the view you can see.
one and two. A fixed point
in this way of a wavering life.
Grass under our legs grows
by a ruined abbey. Take me.
I followed you here.
This place that you made better
just for me. You
explored and saw so much –
and turned me to face the right
path. A road that my feet had
been walking on the edge –
scared of the centre
Away to the past. Where
we watched angels in
the fallen stone. Back again.
Sign the forever truth.
Send out your signal to hear
the hidden. Find the search
and re-connect without age.
Restrict breathing to an act,
Not one day alone, not apart.
Rest on beams, support each
limb. Never again forgotten, an
impossible solitude.
Each time you turn. Go. I fall
back into second as you return
to reality. Watching you fade
away into a place
I always believed. Knew that I
would walk into your path. I saw
you and waited. You were never
the man
We land. This land. Our land.
We possess it through shared
trials and own the seconds
we spend in each place.
grey clouds with the
brightest light. Shadows
play darkness. Dawn picks up
the structures, all of the parts
Each decision taken quietly –
stepping blindly. One thing
certain beneath our feet. A
strength in support.
Personification of himself.
You do not exist. You live.
You are the meaning you are
the only secret.
your arms to greet me while
you can – as winter guards our
steps. Frost cracks over our
veins as we hold on.
At the top of the hill I can hear
your sound, through murmuring
pine trees. Still. Though I go
the miles. I am not
Airports with grey walls, we sit
in the same chairs. Waiting
room whispers. Lift our feet up,
off to cut through water as air.
We lay back further and look at
a sky-full of watching souls, that
vanish in the pain of day, they
stay to haunt our dusk.

This is the poem that was created by the images that people sent back in the Poetry Postcards project. The original poem and the ones that got away will be posted soon.

The idea of the project was to see what happened when a poem was split up and then rearranged in a new order that was completely outside of my control. I wanted to get lots of people involved and that part of the project worked brilliantly.

I would love to know what people think about this, and if anyone has any suggestions about what to do with the sixty cards left-over I’d like to hear that too!

Vick.

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