Saturday, April 26, 2014

April 26, 2014 Writers Digest/The Story of My Life//NoPoWriMo Poetry Prompt: #26/deVerse Open Link Night

The Story of My Life
What is it but perception
No more or no less than
What I think it is
I count the days
Squeeze out the paint
The years go by
It all happens so quickly
Over before I have even
Figured out the order of things
Leave the door open
Welcome the stranger
You have seen him
Many times on the road
You dream the future
But it isn’t yours' to control
The future seeks it’s own
Like water in a stream
As time passes
I am fading
Becoming a ghost in the
Story that is my life
Never complete
Just reaching a conclusion
I whisper my goodbyes
Not really audible on my lips
Written on small sheets of white paper
Folded carefully
Like small white shells
Scattered on a beach
Left for shell seekers to find
Note:  Robert's prompt was a water poem.  I am home from my trip and am looking for where I left off my life, still a little dizzy…


Claudia said...

life is so fleeting - and often time just runs - i'm glad for the small moments along the way and hope to leave some footprints once i'm gone

Anonymous said...

Over before I have even
Figured out the order of things
- oooh know that feeling well.
Also like the image of 'squeezing out the paint' and the sense of becoming a ghost in one's own life...

Beth Winter said...

The future seeks it’s own
Like water in a stream

Doesn't it? The whispered goodbyes on folded slips of paper seemed very tender and yet so fatalistic. I think my folded slips of paper are hidden within lines of my verses and will be obvious to anyone who wants to see them. Beautiful work.

Anonymous said...

So many great images. Love the squeezing the paint and the bits of paper for shell seekers. This poem makes me want to get up and get moving before I lose the day. I think I will!

Ginny Brannan said...

I feel an aloneness, a sadness to this reflection, and am hoping that there some happy times here too.

Anonymous said...

Thoughts of our own mortality have featured large with me in the past few months, and then I wonder what mark I will leave, and the manner of my leaving. It is a strange place to find myself, and your poem reflects my state of mind. Thank you for sharing this - lots of food for thought.

Anonymous said...

Interesting write. Though I think of it as that I have all the time left to me to do the things that I will do. >KB

scotthastiepoet said...

Hi Annell, Good stuff - especially liked: "squeezing out the paint..." - great metaphor and spot on.... With Best Wishes Scott

hyperCRYPTICal said...

How life quickly passes by; how quickly days become months become years,
Love the idea of the scattered shells waiting to be discovered.
Anna :o]

Delaina said...

Oh my this is beautiful! Cheers!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Where have you been, Annell? Hope it was a good trip. I so resonate with this poem. I, too, feel like I am fading these days...........I love the folded messages (our poems).......and the small white shells. Beautiful.

kaykuala said...

As long as one is in firm control there should not be too much worry. Emotions can lead one astray so they say! Great write annell!


Anonymous said...

You dream the future, but it is yours to control. Interesting idea, Annell. Becoming a ghost in the story that is my, yes, I can feel that, too.
Powerful write.

Jae Rose said...

So much to gather and keep safe in these carefully drawn feels to early for goodbyes but i guess we must pass them on safely..i love those sheets of white paper and shells..very precious

Mark said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
annell said...

I am thinking all we say, is goodbye?

ds said...

"Over before I have even/Figured out the order of things"
Story of my life, that. I love the small pieces of paper as shells, the specific and the infinite somehow combined. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

especially like these lines:

You dream the future
But it isn’t yours' to control ~