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Steppes

The brown unmoving steppes
hypnotize in noonday light;
the prickly brushwood
arid rock
thirsty silent earth.
I have known
solitude impregnated
with mysterious consonances
on gray spaces of the steppes.
I have sensed
forms of timid creatures
mimicking grasslands,
hidden from mortal eyes.
Lean horses kneel by water holes
fed by streamlets dried up long ago.
The beauty of the steppes endures,
enigmatic,
under gray-green fabrics
God weaves over the land.
Sovereign,
Andean heights watch
with sharp eyes of a condor
the quietude of plateaus.

Their unrelenting semblance,
mesmerizing hues
appear to be a craving
numbness or a void
crying out for some transcendent passion
stolen from the unreal dome
of startling blues
-some godly meaning in the sky-
revealed only to the patient eye.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

I really enjoy the imagery you create in this piece. I would like to see a version of this with the word I replaced with "she". You have left a brilliant openness there that I find hard for me to personalize in the final stanza, but one more line would likely push me over.
Although I prefer structured and rhyming poetry, I felt the urge to compliment you on your fine writing.

Thomas

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...so like my lost dreams...the flood

Hi, thanks so much for your suggestion. I'll revise asap. All crits are welcome, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

as logical as anything I've read lately. Your cinematic view, heightens my imagination and lifts my soul; knowing that there are still people that see such beauty in the world around us! Bravo! ~ Geez.
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It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

Hi Geez, so glad you appreciate my poem. I'm not much good at rhyming, as you poets are, but sometimes I get some odd rhymes in my FV. I don't think I can participate in the poetry challenges because I've not come here often enough. Been busy preparing my Spanish poems to be published. All suggestions and crits are welcome, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

i need to compliment you on this piece I just stumbled upon. I adore the picturesque view you painted as well as the structure. Keep it up.

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