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On Tour
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Pale as the Eastern gulls sitting on rooftops,
he speeds over the wide country.
He hurts with uncommon intensity –
liberation balanced between his two lips.
Like the slow hum of rain, I hear him
treading the snowed-in cities, hear his kiss
like a prayer of protection, flowering.
Freedom stitched to his smile,
he crosses the sea he’s never seen before,
as he carries his guitar
like a lover’s warm hand.
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Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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First published in “Envoi”, 1996
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Published in “Creative Talents Unleashed” June 2016
https://creativetalentsunleashed.com/2016/06/09/on-tour-author-allison-grayhurst/
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.
“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.
Dig.
Beautiful.
makes a musicfan guess some on his name & face
Reblogged this on The ObamaCrat.Com™ and commented:
More beauty from Ms. Allison Grayhurst.
Very nice
I love this – it reads like a song, like a warm and soft poetic blanket, like a hum, like a beauty ever so intimate and profound and real and true.
“He hurts with uncommon intensity –
liberation balanced between his two lips.
Like the slow hum of rain, I hear him
treading the snowed-in cities, hear his kiss
like a prayer of protection, flowering.
Freedom stitched to his smile,
he crosses the sea he’s never seen before,
as he carries his guitar
like a lover’s warm hand.”