UKArchive ID: 35627Your Wings by prospero
Originally published on October 16, 2015 in Poetry    

Who she is, where she came from, where she has gone - I know not.

Your wings are invisible
But you must have some somewhere
As you are a beautiful Angel
Your halo shimmers every time
You shake your head
And silver dust floats
Down to settle upon your
Elegant shoulders.
Your feet never touch the ground
Whilst your pinions and feathers
Vibrate musically and suspend
You an inch or so above the floor.

I am always down to earth.
It attracts me like a strong magnet
Attracts iron.
Whenever I try to reach for you
Your magnetism is the same polarity as mine
And pushes me firmly away.
I can see you but never touch you;
I can want you but never have you;
I can love you but never be requited.

© prospero (corin on OLD UKA)
UKArchive ID: 35627
Archived comments for Your Wings
Supratik on 16-10-2015
Your Wings
A beautiful read indeed! Thanks for sharing. Best. Supratik

Author's Reply:
Thankyou Supratik.


stormwolf on 16-10-2015
Your Wings
Well David,
This is a slighly different style from you but it works wonderfully well. The simplicirty of the lines only highlights the beautiful imagery and the contrasting stanzas balance out the whole poem.
The otherwordly desired by the grounded, never to meet due to natural polarity. One for my fav collection.
What superb poetry I am reading this morning.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thankyou Alison - This was a NAGAS poem written when I was really down. Thank you for the pick too:-)



Mikeverdi on 16-10-2015
Your Wings
I like the gentle flow of words, as Alison says, a different style with this one. Great stuff.
ps.typo first line second verse.

Author's Reply:
Thankyou Mike - I will correct the typo:-)

BTW - how are you?


Pronto on 19-10-2015
Your Wings
I really enjoyed this poem. It simply flowed along beautifully and left us in awe and wonder about this apparition of loveliness. Well deserved nib.

Author's Reply:
Thankyou Pronto, it was piece out of nothing really - a writing group exercise. It never ceases to amaze me how many poems we have inside that we do not know about.