One Tongue Flapping


Mirror shattering
All images dissolving
Into a word soup

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on May 29, 2015, in Poetry, Senryu and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.

    • We both recall this experience I believe, sister dear, and it is so nice to share it with you,once again even though just in recall and imagination. My thoughts and blessings are with you.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Seems I’ve been there….. I like that – “word soup”. Better than stewing, maybe…..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. πŸ˜€

    Speaking of word soup – I’ve actually posted a new Mayberrie poem. An additive to the story, but not sure where yet.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. P.S. Hope all is going well!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. The images of us all within a cracked mirror shattered and floating through space. Sound echoing out of order as we soared out into the universe trapped in our pieces of silver glass.

    Have we fallen down the rabbit hole yet?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. *Should be the *wings* appeared. πŸ™„
    Did the winds appear?

    Liked by 1 person

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