Sunday, February 28, 2016

February 28, 2016 The Sunday Whirl Wordle #240/ Dream Scene on the Mesa -- Sunday's Whirligig Whirligig #48/ The Morning (Mourning) Begins -- Poets United

The Sunday Whirl Wordle 240

Enough, kiss, threat, run, dream, scarlet, jump, touch, group, mist, bell, cross


Dream Scene on the Mesa

i am enough     no more        no less

late afternoon grey        on the mountain

in the snow appears        the white buffalo      sacred to native people

the wind howls       the mood melancholy      again this morning

all is grey       a yellow glow above the mountain     the ringing of the bell

from the church tower      sounds across the mesa     the air is crisp and dry

this land is ancient      old        the scene

like a dream       sunday morning      a group of people

young and old       dressed in scarlet      carry a large cross

the children run to keep up      throw kisses to the animals in the fields

there is no threat       in this dream scene       hard edged crystal clear

February 28, 2016

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Sunday's Whirligig Whirligig #48

Bathed, troubles, crevices, squirt, stones, ask, morning, seeds, fiery, spray, reeling, hose


The Morning (Mourning) Begins

the morning, (mourning) begins         a new day                bathed, shaved

dressed to the “t”                                the sun rises             to find the same

troubles, bubbles and muddles           i slip my hand into the crevices to find the lazy snake

who sleeps there                                 he asks who disturbs his sleep

one eye closed         his fiery tongue flicking in and out      it is only me

i answer                   i gather stones                          place them next to my ear

and listen to their wise words              for they have lived long

sung songs               seen much                                        know more

carry the marks of the fire                            sometimes their words send me reeling

the seeds of wisdom                 are planted there             the phone rings

as when we were children                    the phone is a hose strung between two cans

the voice i hear                         is your's                     in dreams you return to me

February 28, 216






14 comments:

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Soo profound! Both poems are in equal harmony with one another.

Mary said...

I can really see that scene on the mesa. I can see in my mind the transition between past and present....a beautiful flow in this poem.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

How I love the dreamy description of the mesa....you take us there, and we can see it so clearly. Sigh. Very beautiful. I love the reference to the white buffalo.

Your second poem is fantastic! I can see the snake's tongue, flicking in and out...love listening to the stones who "have lived long...sing songs....have seen much"........wow! I love "the seeds of wisdom are planted there". Then the nostalgic reference to the tin can phone and the poignancy of "in dreams you return to me." Sigh. Beautiful work, Annell....and sad.

brudberg said...

The scene of the mesa... such a special place I only saw in passing many years ago so it's like your words...

The second poem dives deep into mythology for me, the snake is so much more than just a serpent...

Anonymous said...

Love your mixture of dream, myth, and reality. It flows and transports your reader with each word.

Elizabeth

C.C. said...

There is such a weaving of a mythical quality in both of these pieces....rich with symbolism and profound emotion. I feel them both down deep.

Old Egg said...

Although both poems appear personal they resonate with past memories and grief which is so palpable to the reader.

Sumana Roy said...

both the poems have some amazing scenes in them painted perfectly. ..." listen to their wise words for they have lived long" the line is wisdom itself...

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Both beautiful, haunting; perfect blend of descriptions and emotions. Your writing always touches my heart.

Jae Rose said...

Crisp dreams are the very best..and how each morning seems to present the same 'troubles, bubbles and muddles' - like all great wisdom and knowing i like the wit and sense of listening in this piece particularly xo

Susan said...

The morning begins with touch and stones that carry memories ... this feels serene despite the mourning, but the memory of the telephone nearly made me cry. If only it still felt that way for me. Some relationships have changed too much. Wonderful poem, thank you.

S.E.Ingraham said...

I thought I'd left a comment but I think I pressed sign out instead of publish so here I go again. I wanted to say that I found both of these poems poignant and profound. And that I love your use of white space which I find both effective and affecting. The work is very fine.

http://soundofthewordnight.blogspot.ca/2016/02/under-threat-of-dreams.html

ZQ said...

Well done!
ZQ

Carol Campbell said...

I love the sacredness of your words!

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