Sunday, May 7, 2017

THE ORIGINS OF STORIES/ THE SUNDAY WHIRL -- PARCHED BY THE SUN/ SUNDAY'S WHIRLIGIG -- POETS UNITED POETS PANTRY

THE SUNDAY WHIRL:

THE ORIGINS OF STORIES

where do stories begin            what are their origins                  in darkness and shadows         

the cave of dreams                  in the thin light of morning          difficult to remember           

(put back together)                  or shall we dig in the ashes       after the fire has burned itself out

cold and lonely                         use ash to create words             make pictures              

or count the rings of a tree       or its’ limbs                                each one a story to tell 


                                   
born of spirit                             as well as material body            do we carry stories

folded in each tiny cell             or…are the origins found in rain      as it falls from the roof

one drop at a time                    imitating the beat of the heart           the punch line

each drop touch-lands              on the surface of the water       rings radiate out                      

each one bigger than the last     suddenly the story snaps into place     with a spirit of its’ own

May 6, 2017

                                               


SUNDAY’S WHIRLIGIG:


         PARCHED BY THE SUN

spring finds                clover and milkweed                      up to my knees

butterflies flutter       the sun warm on my skin                 tiny red lady bugs                

crawl over green leaves   the drifts of snow melted           nothing old

all is new                    tulips flare in the garden                  red, yellow and pink

their time glorious     but brief                                            for us the same                             



it is may                      the month of your birth                    all things perish

even now                   the tulips once bright                         are beginning to fade

in memory                  i gaze into your eyes                         see the boy you were

will always be            you smile back at me                        point to my heart

and to your own         the once fresh air grows thick         sun begins to parch

May 5, 2017               

           
                                   


12 comments:

  1. Luv the contemplation on the origin of stories

    Have a good Sunday

    Much love...

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  2. I love how we each are jam packed with stories. I especially love the love and tenderness in the second poem. A beautiful memory, him pointing to your heart and his own. A gift.

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  3. I like to contemplate the origin of stories. Your words draw fine pictures.

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  4. Good Grief, I think I found the code, the pattern... each indented verse needs to be read down first before going to the next indented verse. And then of course if you just want to see the cloth and its many colors, you just read it across, without detail.
    Annell, I have no notion if this is your intent but it was incredible to read that way, for me.
    You are an incredible writer.
    ZQ

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  5. I think the two pieces are a whole, the one leading to the other and then reflecting back again. Love your style...

    Elizabeth

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  6. As ever your wisdom and faith in the world shines through in these poems

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  7. Love the origin of stories. I think the format is perfect for the motif, for they begin everywhere... and when we get to what looks like the end, we can look back and realized that we can't be quite sure of hour it all started... but what really matters is that they are...

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  8. Both poems are so lovely. The first has wonderful thoughts about the origin of stories - they make us human. The second touches my heart and i know it comes straight from yours.

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  9. These pieces are both very special. The first one, I found, really pulled me along ... it spoke to me. The second one, I found: very evocative ~ Lovely ~

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