Sunday, October 11, 2015

October 11, 2015 Poets United -- The Sunday Whirl/ Melancholy -- Sunday's Whirligig/Summer athe Bay (House on Blue Heron)


look through the letters       for your post           thought i would hear from you

weeks have passed              does it really matter              probably not

the journey is the trip          after all                    it would take courage

to negotiate the traffic         to risk the chill        the bridge to the past

has burned                          there is no going back           the past cannot be changed

it is as                                  it is my urge to return        that cannot be

it no longer exists               you say but i remember      and of course i remember

it is not anywhere               perhaps the thrum              is all that is left

like yesterday                     which was today                now is the past

a place we cannot return to       can only visit in memory      which isn't the same for all

October 11, 2015


Summer at the Bay (House on Blue Heron)

little cabin                           at the bay                            the smell of salt water

starry nights                        sailboats                              waves slap against the side

dunes are fragile               yet give protection            from high winds and rough waters

shorebirds                      hide among the dunes                  children bicycling

the distance around the island     small ponds                   are natural wonders

where watchful herons hunt      slowly...         cautiously...            take the next step

October 10, 2015


Mary said...

Yesterday, today, past, present....sometimes we do yearn to return to what once was...but memory is the only way we can do this.

brudberg said...

I wonder sometimes if I would get a letter from the past.. maybe a bottle from a distant shore.. or maybe just spend some time at such a wonderful cabin, the present is good enough.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I know that feeling of waiting for word that does not come. Sigh. I love your second poem, full of everything I love, herons, dunes, starry nights, and waves. Another sigh.

this-thing-that-i-do said...

I think we all wait for some part of the past to awaken, come again, and change whatever has taken its place. We do it, even though it never happens. And I too, like that second piece and for all the same reasons,


Sanaa Rizvi said...

Certainly the past can not be revisited.. however much we wish to do so.. as it remains in our memory only.. Touching write.

Lots of love,

Old Egg said...

Memories are still precious; we hold on to them as they a part of us, more precious than diamonds and sustain us in our lowest moments.

Hayes Spencer said...

Sometimes, I think it is good we cannot revisit the past. So many times I think it would break our hearts. But my memories are precious. This is a most poignant write. hayes Spencer is Kanzensakura

Sumana Roy said...

if only past could wake up but that's not to be...memory works like consolation...sigh..

Wanda Bates said...

The first set of verses are heartbreaking. The second set are gentle, soothing the heartbreak. Yin and Yang.

Jae Rose said...

Perhaps an antidote to melancholy is to look outside rather than spending too much time inside ourselves and our thoughts...time can be a cruel reminder and yet in nature it is a constant...which can be reassuring...a wonderful duet

Susan said...

A fine pair of poems, contrasting the inability to return with a continuous condition--the protection and life of the dunes. I love the second in contrast, reminding me that there are things we can count on in nature. I find returning to those places and their joys somewhat of a solace and balance to those things that cannot be returned to.

Marissa Biden Sergey Christina Murphy said...

when words scatter,
the imagery grows fonder.

Nataša Dolenc said...

beautiful imagery.. time sure is an interesting thing.

humbird said...

Love the little poems within the poems...beautiful...

G L Meisner said...

Two well written poems. I really like the second.