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Miriam Dunn
Goodreads Author
Born
in Canada
Website
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Member Since
September 2009
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/miridunn
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Miriam Dunn
Currently I am working on my next poetry collection for publication in 2017.
More books by Miriam Dunn…
Who Will Love the Crow
I am delighted to share with you the exciting news of my book release Who Will Love the Crow through Winter Goose Publishing. This is my debut solo collection and features the photography from Olivia MacDonald, my daughter, whose photographs I feature on my blog. Visit my author's page
Selected Amazon Reviews
"the poems speak to us all about intimate, as well as universal moments, both flee Read more of this blog post »
Selected Amazon Reviews
"the poems speak to us all about intimate, as well as universal moments, both flee Read more of this blog post »
Miriam Dunn
is currently reading
Miriam Dunn said:
"
Broken Places is an honest, gut-wrenching and poetic examination exploring the issue of sexual abuse, and becoming a strong survivor. Thompson writes with raw honesty, yet delicate and vulnerable beauty as she navigates the rough waters of anger, pai
...more
"
“I do like Christmas on the whole.... In its clumsy way, it does approach Peace and Goodwill. But it is clumsier every year.”
―
―
“A man is not called wise because he talks and talks again; but if he is peaceful, loving and fearless then he is in truth called wise.”
― The Dhammapada: The Sayings of the Buddha
― The Dhammapada: The Sayings of the Buddha
“Too bad people can't always be playing music, maybe then there wouldn't be any more wars.”
― Rowan Farm
― Rowan Farm
“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”
―
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”
―
“Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ”
―
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ”
―
