Saturday, June 10, 2017




in the root cellar          were empty mason jars         the grandmother             

                                                                                was moving


for the last time           no longer to live alone          no longer free            


she lived in the house       on water street             san antonio texas                


for 60 years          faithful to her church         the house empty now




there is no mercy     for the old                              life signs erased                     


late nights on the porch/the neighbors strolling by/the children 


moved away             lives of their own                  a life spills away


like water through your fingers/there is no holding on/the new dawn




wipes away memory/the leap from birth to death/happens so quickly


there is no finish line/no applaud from the crowd/the end comes at a    



each soul reaches its destination/as nonchalant               as forever                               


carries her stories/neatly in a small bag/the contents like folded linens




the color of muslinor that color just before sunrise/perhaps a darker 



difficult to name         life is a gift                         one day to the next               


filled with small accomplishments/no time to spare/each scintillating         



the fragrance of honeysuckle fills the air/just when one thinks he has 

                                                                                found his groove

it’s over /it will be the same for you and for me/ bound by our earlier


flagrant choices           the news comes                     will you be ready                   


or will you be flighty        what to take                what to leave behind


the old house empty now/children’s laughter quietly/echoing from the



June 10, 2017

Note:  I made a mistake.  I thought yesterday was Sunday, and collected the words from The Sunday Whirl and Sunday's Whirligig and made a was really the poem above has the words from last week's wordle, from the Sunday Whirl and today's Sunday's Whirligig.  

The Sunday Whirl  #303


we are told               it is a closed system          the water we have

is all there is/and all there will ever be/we walk in the shadow of 
                                                                            this reality      
yet our very touch          dirties the water                we drink   

we speak in whispered tones    the water clear         sparkling

begins as snow in the mountains/tumbles down in spring/we dip
                                                                         our loaded brush                                                                                                        

and swish          all of the water turns blue         or orange…or green    

depending on what is in the brush        humans spoil everything                     
                                                                           as we watch

we were given a miracle        a garden of eden           perfectly


and it is possible/there is no other place /scientists stare into their 

we pin our hopes         on another world                the universe is

search for other planets      a place for us                when all is 

 rancid          we have spoiled our nest         we need more resources

as if in a trance/we continue to live as if there were no tomorrow
                                                                   plastic fills the oceans

floats on every ripple/we pump carbon waste into the air/we crack                                                                           
                                                                    the earth

we can ignite the water/that comes from the tap/but we can not 
                                                                     drink it

within we know what we have done/yet we deny it/ say there is no 
                                                                     global warming 

June 11, 2017             
























Sherry Blue Sky said...

I can see that woman, remembering her long lifein that house, now in a place with strangers. A hard change, that final loss of home.


These are both very good. The first made me cry.

scotthastiepoet said...

Dear Annell, for me, your work continues to grow in depth and with such deft and telling poetic phrasing... A real treat to read - Thank so much...

Sumana Roy said...

There's no mercy for the old. Such heartbreaking truth. The first poem is so visual and moving. The second poem is very timely. Yes what he says has to be true. Ugh.

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

"Will you be ready, or will you be flighty?" The question that confronts us all. It's easier to ignore it, of course, and just get on with our daily business until there is "no time to spare." Then the game's up, and not only is the old house empty, but so are we.

This is a hauntingly beautiful poem, Annell. Thank you.

indybev said...

No mercy for the old brought me to tears, Annell. As all my friends and I prepare for our last chapter, these words are all too true. Thoughtfully written!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Your global warming poem hits me in the heart, Annell. Every word so true. We have to heal the world we have, only the billionaires will get to another place. I like this one anyway, just wish we had tended it more carefully. You are right - we were given a paradise.

De Jackson said...

OH, I LOVE this:
"carries her stories/neatly in a small bag/the contents like folded linens"

ayala said...

Thoughtful and heartbreaking.

ZQ said...

Whew! A wonderful read for me.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is so heart-wrenching.

Mary said...

Both are good. Indeed, sadly there is no mercy for the old; and we all do reach that point sometimes. And, as for global warming...yes, we live as if there is no tomorrow....especially since there are the 'climate change deniers' that presently have their way. Sad.

colleen said...

Why does it have to be this way? All for naught? I wonder.

Old Egg said...

First of all who cares what words you use it is the message that counts.
One of the most stupid ideas is that we can trash the Earth so a few can make millions because we can always go to another planet to live. Sadly that is not going to happen. Exloration may take place but nowhere near enough will be livable. It would be far easier to mend our ways and make the Earth sustainable by protecting water sources, protecting the seas from pollution, stop using fossil fuels that affect the atmosphere and maintain a balance in nature and most importantly stop killing each other as that is so costly and wasteful!

Thotpurge said...

the contents like folded linens
the color of muslin or that color just before sunrise/perhaps a darker gray difficult to name ... love those lines... both beautiful pieces.

Anonymous said...

Sometimes mistakes lead to good writing, better poems. I think that is clearly what happened here. Let's drink to the mistakes,


Wendy Bourke said...

Both of these pieces, for me, evoked (to greater or lesser degrees) long life - on an individual and planetary level. Where there is life, there is the certainty of change. Life is layered in joy and sadness - though, always, the end of life ... is sad. Brilliant writing!

Jae Rose said...

As ever your insight and imagery are spell binding - a happy accident with collecting those words xo

Myrna R. said...

Both poems touch me with your honest words. The end of life is something I am approaching (faster than I'd like to admit), the end of this planet may be approaching too. Both are sad thoughts, but real. I am impressed with the wisdom you share and with the talent you have to be so prolific with given words.

Taking time off.....

I am taking some time off from posting on my blog.  I am studying, practicing, have so much to learn....