Saturday, September 19, 2015

September 20, 2015 The Sunday Whirl/Fighting in the Streets --Heart Lines Grow Deep/ Poets Pantry


Fighting in the Streets

in the great canyons of the city      people crowd the streets     flee in all directions

mickey and minnie                    and scantily clad women         with the letters NY

on their bare bottoms                 cowboys and indians               dash for subways

no longer free               the threat didn't come from another      someone unknown

instead it came from you              my love                                 i didn't see it coming

your attack deadly                    the scent of death                      in the air

freda once painted the scene      death by a thousand nicks       there was no retreat

as in historic battles           one had to stand and take it             streets soaked in blood

people slipped in the bloody gore      maybe it was all about     winning or some other prize

that couldn't be ignored             i ran the gantlet                         took every blow

from your deadly bag of tricks       could not deny your cruelty         our history long

you knew my weaknesses         i did not respond                       for that

you became more angry           tossed thunderbolts                    i try to understand

the cause of such bad weather       a sudden thunderstorm         but have no clue

about the motive                      or was it                                      just the time of day

September 20, 2015


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Heart Lines Grow Deep

the tree loaded with green apples      ripe for picking      it is the harvest time of year

standing on the shore      watching the waves return       see your face in silhouette

as though it were carefully cut from black silk            it drizzles even as the sun shines

the season of the heart               is now                              and has been from birth

heart lines grow deep         into the deepest depths            into the dark places

it is the child in you        that takes unfair advantage      he knows no boundries         

he knows you best                you have opened to him     shown him all of your secrets

nothing hidden                     he has the power                   to strip you to the bone                    

holds nothing back               he can be vicious               for what the child doesn't know           

even love itself                     can not always heal                      what is broken

September 20, 2015

Note:  I do not know why the spacing isn't as it should be?  It appears correct, but when I update, it no longer is?



15 comments:

  1. Sometimes these things get glitches. I have a lot of trouble with font and spacing changes in draft, where everything posts a different way than I want it to, especially if I edit it. No idea how to fix it.You might try highlighting the whole post, hitting the remove format key on the upper right and then re-space it all over again...that sometimes works for me. Your poem still looks good though. And I love the truth in it, that those who know us for real, for life, know exactly what buttons to push to distress us.......and the sad wisdom in the closing lines that love cannot always heal what is broken. A beautiful poem, my friend.

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  2. Love should be constant and unconditional but it cannot change events. Our love continues even when our loved ones move on, it doesn't lessen but it does say "Be proud how you have loved".

    With regard to Blogger I had no end of trouble a few months ago but now it is behaving. Clearly your turn to be tested has come round!

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  3. "tossed thunderbolts"---yikes...what a poignant, brilliant description!! I love the imagery and the questioning of what has caused such bad weather.

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  4. well I am kinda glad it was just a storm . I was thinking it was something a bit more nefarious. I guess we could blame a higher power but I bet it's just nature. if it is on Florida you can about set your watch to the daily rain

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    1. Dear X...who said it was a storm...or was it a storm of sorts...it's all nature after all...I'm not sure about the higher power...maybe a lower power? It happened in New York, Times Square....yes, I think 'nefarioua' is a good description....thanks for your comment.

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  5. for what the child doesn't know
    even love itself can not always heal what is broken

    Such poignant & beautiful lines.

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  6. Really like both pieces, but especially the lines about how love can not always heal what is broken. It takes so long to truly understand that truth, and many never find it at all. Wish I had a solution for the spacing problem. My issues got resolved when I'd type the piece on my word processor program and then copy and paste it as a whole into my dashboard window. But, your formatting is so different that I'm not sure that would help you at all,

    Elizabeth

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  7. I too always love your writing. The spacing works for me; makes sense in terms of meaning, anyway.

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  8. So true....love cannot always heal what is broken. We wish it could, and in an ideal world it would happen...but no, it often does not!

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  9. Some powerful words and images to ponder...leaving a lasting impression as always, but that last line is quite visceral and so very true.

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  10. "even love itself can not always heal what is broken" the line will stay with me...

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  11. Two beautiful tapestries (and the shape looked perfect) - both seem to be internal battles..perhaps the first harsh..the second more 'forgiving'..so often we know our enemy...even if we don't acknowledge it as part of ourself..

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  12. it's so interesting in how many ways this can be read..

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