January
time of cold nights single digits the tree still up
looks shabby now the moon shines brightly
on the last strands of tinsel still hanging there
the party is over the holidays spent the original list crumpled
thrown in the trash it is about the children presents opened
toys already forgotten so much expectation disappointment for all
in the beginning no one thought it would all turn into
the giant potlatch that it is shelves in the stores are full
carols blare from the speakers faces of the shoppers are wistful
perhaps remembering christmas past i board the train for the new year
i count the stars knock on wood avoid stepping on cracks
gather my own superstitions touch my fingers to my heart
no it is not the same will never be it’s a shady game
this game called life spin the wheel throw the dice
move the pieces around the board it’s a game hard to play
solitaire gravity keeps our feet on the ground
and if we trip and fall down we go scorekeeper
Says, “man down send in the troupes” back on my feet
i begin again knowing how it will end …always does
each year with celebration “Happy New Year to all and to all a good night”
January 14, 2018
18 comments:
An insightful commentary - I quite like the potash of January there is some relief that all those expectations are laid to rest.. On we go xo
You have captured the expectations and disappointments of the season so well, my friend. A giant potlatch is a good description.
It always come to an end... and we are left with only bills and dirty tinsel... but I guess it means jobs for some.
This is BRILLIANT!
I enjoyed this truthful account. I always think of the aftermath of Christmas and the tree as something like a used condom tossed aside.
So well captured--the ambivalent feelings around the holidays--the disappointments inherent in high expectations.
It's a circle, this thing called living. And to stay in it, we must roll and roll again and again... even when we start to look (and feel) shabby.
I like how you capture the very real sadness and yearning, the deep desire that some day it might be different in the center of the knowledge that it won't.
Elizabeth
Yes, it is a shady game - this game called life. We spin the wheel, throw the dice, move on into the new year...hoping for the best. Nothing is ever the same in a new year! This is a reflective poem, Annell. Each time I read it I find something else that strikes me. Such depth and thoughtfulness. This is REAL poetry!
I so related - bang on - to this piece. The holidays seem to lose a little more every year. Then again, so does the prospect of 'peace on earth' ... so perhaps that is as it should be, until - gawd-help-us - we manage to get this planet rolling in the right direction. The game analogy was brilliantly penned.
I agree with Mary, there is a lot of depth and thoughtfulness in this work. Really a stunning bit of writing, Annell.
the words that come to my mind on reading this poem are deep, thoughtful and honest. because if i read it again, and i did, i will find another hidden meaning in the words.
this poem is brilliant.
Life keeps reminding you of the ground but also gives glimpses of the wonderful sky. Nice poem.
I really like how you have captured the sadness and longing, and the hope and desire that one day it might be different.. Beautifully penned.
Full of the sadness of time passing and experiences ending. Wonderful write!
I like the scorekeeper sending in showbiz instead of military!
Yes, despite the many superficial changes, the essence remains.
This is brilliant! Wistfulness while knowing each year brings changes.
How well you have captured the 'spirit' of the season Annell.
I had to google 'potlach' but how appropriate the term.
And we move on into the next year and things change, we cope or attempt to cope with presenting pitfalls, and yes, things are never the same again...but the memories remain.
Anna :o]
Post a Comment