Sonnet for Denise


Her third eye

hidden like blurred trees in drifting snow lie

beneath a halo of auburn hair

doe eyes she stands

with woolen design

upon her narrow line.


Her open eye

indigo reflection of weeping sky

escapes the kidnapping , soft smudge she stares

in curiosity a mouth of crimson smears

a curving branch

upon eyes trance .


a brow arched

her soul is risen .

Please listen till the end … It’s so very beautiful !

21 thoughts on “Sonnet for Denise

    1. Julie ,from the beginning do words find rest in our hearts and erupt at times of love ? … it is all so mysterious ( she is inside of me , in my womb still ) .. Thank you for being here …hugs xxx


  1. Oh mom, with your words, I giggle. With the music, I cry. Thank you for this sweet gift and especially for being my “Dear” mom. I love you!


  2. P.S. Mom it is indeed your own third eye born into me which occupies the womb where I lived, which is still there. Your words upon next read bring several associations for me, your own secret clues from yourself. It’s a poem from long ago, from across the oceans of a romantic ballad, now friendship. I’m sure you understand. Again, thank you Doe.


  3. Your words and images together seem to make a dynamic system. I move from one to the other looking for what lives in them, finding instead another layer of depth with each circuit. I was looking at the second photo, seeing the crystalline facets of the iris, realizing I had missed on the first reading of this poem the slightly crinkled brow, wondering about that feeling that comes when we encounter the boundless mystery in an image or a turn of phrase. I was reminded of the famous National Geographic photo of the Afghan girl with green eyes. And then I was thinking of the eyes of lions (my mind is not quiet this morning), and how whenever we look deeply into the eyes of another living being there is some pulse of recognition, some sensation we cannot name. I decided that is the quantum entangled moment when you realize you’re looking deeply into yourself through a shockingly beautiful mirror called Life…



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