Sunday, May 17, 2015

Sunday's Whirligig/The Prodigal Son Returns --Poets United Poets Pantry/The Gift

The Prodigal Son Returns

each of us are one state of grieving...      or another                     light candles

say prayers                      do what is necessary                           travel to the tavern

find those who understand          roar with laughter           at the common state of being

the sun shines somewhere         no matter the weather        the prodigal son has returned

he is the treasure of your life       you have searched              at last you have found him

your longing is satisfied            celebrate this day                             only to find

he does not have long to live       his journey is over                you are again left alone continue without him

May 16, 2015


Poets Pantry

The Gift

alone                 tears poised                                            ready to roll down my cheeks

is sorrow everywhere                  for all to share                             who is here

who is not                                     what is lost                                    what is found

who is speaking                    what words are said                       is there any meaning

to it all                                         or is it simply                 a song i sing softly to myself

a children's game               of hide and seek words                   learned in childhood

in this moment                       sitting here                                          without pain

i think of you                        a memory i will keep                              examine it

for wear                                  fold it away           carefully                      lovingly

the scent of your hair             the sound of your voice                 the feel of your skin

i could never tell                   what was the color           of your eyes               blue

grey                                            green                                                 so hard to tell

the story of you                     and yet each day the memories          flicker on the screen

the little boy laughing and crying         you fell                     skinned your knees

hurt your finger                    the boy a young man                         you took chances

the world your oyster                     a place to play                          you took it all

a grain of sand                   or a piece of cake                                  a mother's love

you told me you cared                pointed to my heart                      and to your own

said we were one                        your greatest gift                           given in the end

May 17, 2015


vivinfrance said...

The form you have used puts a new slant on the old story.

Mr. Walker said...

Love the movement from lighting candles and saying prayers to the tavern and roaring with laughter with those who understand.

gautami tripathy said...

Love the form...

where the night is without wind

Sanaa Rizvi said...

You chose a beautiful form for this wonderful poem :D
Well penned..!

Mary said...

Oh, we do have to keep those memories to examine on occasion -- the sounds, the scents, the touches all have their place in memories!

R.K. Garon said...

Well said/written.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Two beautiful and heartfelt songs of sorrow. I especially love that the gift - the only, the best of gifts, that of a heart full of love - was given freely at the end. That love is what remains, my friend. Beautifully done.

brudberg said...

I really love the detail on how hard it is to remember the color of eyes.. When everything else is so clear, that becomes such a sad point here, wonderful poem Annell.

Donna@LivingFromHappiness said...

What a lovely form and sorrowful poems....

Peggy said...

I am so sorry for your loss Annell. These poems and the ones before are such a lovely tribute. Your love and sadness are so well expressed.

Georgia Koch said...

Moving ... and an interesting form.

Marilyn B said...

Completely heartbreaking.

Sumana Roy said...

that void is palpable in both poems...however love binds them together...sigh...

Susan said...

only the gift of love remains--that and the return--the time together. I have the rhythm stuck in my head now like memory.

G L Meisner said...

Brilliant poem.