Brown they are you know,
big and shiny like Autumn conkers
fringed and dark charcoal smudges
emitting beams like fireflies,
seeing all but telling no one,
meditative powerful authority
once of lushness,
the eyes that could bewitch a maiden
now a little faded perhaps rheumy
one might say, yet could in a blink
seduce and tempt to lead astray…
the eyes that tell the story
the eyes that show their pride,
watchful ebony pigments that
twinkle indiscreetly like
magnificent coal diamonds,
templates of sadness
still, such infinite eyes of pride.
Such words and pictures so beautifully painted. Your love so brightly lighting each line. Thoughts shimmer and dance across the screen and my spirit is the richer for reading your wonderful poem. We come away much blessed, and standing a little taller, having looked into those "Eyes of Pride". Thank you for sharing this piece from your heart 🙂
its amazing you can find so much to say about a pair of eyes but the detail and warmth in your poem conveys what you have seen over many years perfectly
Ab fab sis xxx
Just beautiful,Susie
"The eyes are the mirror into ones soul," somebody a lot smarter than me once said.
Hamada's eyes are mirrors of your own.
Dianne West likes this.
Wonderful poem, like always my friend… Judy Locke-Eekhof
Thank you all for your kind comments on "The Eyes Of Pride" and for taking the time to enter them here.