Sunday, February 19, 2017

February 19, 2017 The Sunday Whirl #287 - Sunday's Whirligig #99 - Poets United Poets Pantry/Bach's Concerto #7


Bach's Concerto #7

the sound of the harpsichord fills the air          marooned

no rescue expected     hope slips away      no lifeline in sight

death has no domain           (s)he is comfortable anywhere

                                                                        welcome nowhere

signs etched in the sky   there are no explanations for the truth

(s)he will not be denied    (s)he walks the corridor checking the

                                               numbers on the door against her list

no deals made           when your number comes up

no one else will be accepted           (s)he approaches

extends her hand               steps to the music swings

                                                                  twists and turns

glides across the floor       could (s)he come to rescue after all

youth is fleeting      life seems long/short       in this moment we

                                                                                    are here

just as suddenly      we are there          the exact location unknown

we are all dying     we die tomorrow                  or the day after

secrets whispered                  black cloth tied over the mirrors

the music plays on         we dance in the darkened room

                                                                    we are all dying today

February 19, 2017

Note:  I do not know why some words are in larger fonts, in "strange" places, they are not my intention, but I do not know how to get rid of them?

















17 comments:

C.C. said...

A vivid portrayal of a certain reality: "death has no domain (s)he is comfortable anywhere."

indybev said...

A fascinating word salad that somehow becomes cohesive. My interest is captured.

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

Indeed death can be a dance partner--I loved how you spin this out

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Your words enchant, embed their depth upon my heart. Thank you for this.

brudberg said...

To get that lovely music into a death-dance is perfect.

Colonialist said...

One can get insight from this that all life is a dance with death.

Susan said...

It seems unfair that death has so much power, especially with youth, and I hope that no one young has to long for death as an escape. If so, I would like the power to change places with them! You note that such is not allowed. Grr. I hope to live long enough to welcome death myself--maybe when I'm 100. (But if I were asked, I would pick a Bach Cello Suite instead.)

Sherry Blue Sky said...

The secrets whispered, the black cloth tied over the mirror.......a meditation on death, well expressed.

Myrna R. said...

Life and death entwined in a dance. It's good let rhythm take us to the end. Great writing Annell.

Mary said...

Indeed youth is fleeting, and dying is always coming....all too soon, all too soon!

Sumana Roy said...

"in this moment we

are here

just as suddenly we are there"...dancing steps as it were, rhythmical fleeting moments of life so amazingly captivated...

said...

"(s)he is comfortable anywhere welcome nowhere"

I love that. Also how "life seems long/short"; both are so true.

annell4 said...

Thank you for your comment. for the life of me, I cannot find your write?

annell4 said...

I think I was simply thinking life/death are one thing, perhaps the flip side of the coin? You can't have one without the other? Can you think of a coin with two side the same, front and back? I like to think of death as the rescurer, she only comes when life is no longer possible. She is a nurturer, kind and gentle, perhaps like a Bach Cello Suite.

annell4 said...

You have been there, you know. Thanks Sherry.

annell4 said...

Thank you for your comments, it all seems true....

annell4 said...

For some reason the click wouldn't take me to your write? Thanks for your comment.

Not Just A Cup

  Not Just a Cup       Southern born Not a tea drinker Always coffee For me   Although I often find  Bitter taste Of the dark brew A bit muc...