Emerald Water


Wearing only wind and
the polished memories of
a sun wilting too quickly
in the trees,
we discover the pond.


Two splashes.
A laugh.
We scramble leaf-cluttered sky
into marble,
shatter birdsong into music
that soars past a
hundred wings.


Don’t breathe,
my heart cries,
just live on this perfection
and the dark odyssey of
your tongue,
reducing me to a huntress
and the hunted.


I’ll leave my body,
my soul shouts, if I can
have yours for a moment,
under this water
like the jade of some
spirit temple:
too soft for mortals,
too mortal for gods.


Floating in and out of each
other’s souls . . .
complete and unblemished sky,
flat and close enough to
write on.


We trade hearts and skin and
feel we have found Truth
and a type of joy that believes
in nothing but itself
in the frothy-sweet fragrance
tap-dancing across
our water,


there in our green and
immortal and unquestioning


Growing darkness
chiseling a new sky
from a denser infinity.


Crumbling granite,
one gypsy star.


On solid ground we listen
to chattering hearts and
watch the lights go on in a
kingdom we want to be
a part of.


Wheel of moon,
torn and star-drunk.
Soon she will spill her
glistening soul and
encase the ground
in Lucite . . .


her love
and our love:
our blanket through
the night.


by Patricia Joan Jones

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem received the International Award for Excellence and Beauty at The Golden Quill poetry forum and was chosen as "Becca's Best" at "Galadrial's Respite" poetry forum.

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allets's picture

"too mortal for gods"

once in a while--a line. ~S~



poetvg's picture


Pei-Rung Chung's picture

Hello, dear Patricia,

This poem makes me feel tumbled and utterless by its solidity and fludity, you have described a flowing tongue, as if your mood is flying with the universe. I can sense it's about the world between humanly and heavenly. Enjoyed the read.


saiom's picture

a magnificent poem

from it this is my favorite line
is the one of music going past 100 wings