Sunday, February 4, 2018

The Letter/ the Sunday whirl —Poets United. Poets Pantry

The Letter

The letter still unwritten
Will not be posted
The words missing
No sense of the message

The letters of the alphabet stand at attention
Row upon row, on the shelf
Waiting to be selected
The message unclear

Lost in the fog
Dark as ink...or midnight
The spectical remains burned into my memory
Your head spinning like the movie

There is a pause...
Would you like mint with your tea?
Gently you nod, yes
There is a roaming conversation

With many bends and turns
We tell stories
The world opens
I bend at the waist before you

We have to do it right
For what else is the purpose?
Still searching for the words...
The letter remains unwritten...

16 comments:

brudberg said...

I feel that some messages cannot be told in words... some letters need to be communicated in person.

Donna@LivingFromHappiness said...

The in-person connection is more powerful than mere words on the page....especially if we cannot find the words to write...they seem to come from our heart when we are faced with the person.

Susan said...

I'd rather wait, too, or better yet,write and write and write to think. What a waste of paper! I like how the letters know, how they wait to be selected, how the setting is the narrator's mind.

gillena cox said...

Word need to be correct and right or else not communicated at all. I do agree

Have a good Sunday Annell. Thanks for dropping by my Sunday Standard today

much💟love

Mary said...

Ah - I know we want to do it right, but perhaps if we wait too long it will be too late. I do like how the letters stand at attention too. Excellent imagery. Excellent poem.

Sherry Marr said...

I love the format of this poem, love the alphabet standing at attention, and I well know the feeling of a letter that needs to be written, but one cant find the words...........

WildChild47 said...

I bend at the waist before you ....

wow - what a superb image - so perfectly phrased and placed right at the heart of this poem -

this is just such a climatic point for me, in this reading -

I love all of this - the letter not to be posted, as of yet unwritten, the alphabet lined up, shelved like books, waiting - for words that need to be found - the setting of tea, mint as a balm, a tonic? a spinning head, just like in the movie, open conversations .... and the way it all comes to pass

this is like sitting quietly in the wings, watching .... and who hasn't been here before?

I've never read anything quite like this - you've really captured something essential ... so beautifully done!

belle said...

This is so beautiful.

"Lost in the fog
Dark as ink...or midnight" ... My favorite.

Myrna R. said...

There's so much here. I had to read it several times. Your words travel somewhere within me, where logic is not present, where I understand the need for words, but they do not serve me, where a relationship carries on superficially, but it's depth remains unspoken.
I think I still have to reread this.
Superb writing Annell.

R.K. Garon said...

Wow! Perfect and powerful!
ZQ

ayala said...

Sometimes the longer we wait the harder it becomes.....

Wendy Bourke said...

So often, I have found, those words - that beg to be said - can not find their way to lips ... nor onto paper. A thoughtful piece, brilliantly rendered.

dsnake1 said...

yes, a thoughtful poem. It makes me wonder why the letter is still unwritten. do the narrator wants to meet up in person instead? Is it an apology? very interesting. :)

kaykuala said...

Still searching for the words...
The letter remains unwritten...

Creative writing can be so mysterious. It comes easy at times and it can also be missing the target at other times. Perhaps that is why it is so much fun, annell!

Hank

MNL (Cactus Haiku) said...

love this poem, the way it circles round,that feeling of wanting to be careful, of finding the right words for fear the words will break something fragile but oh so important

Colleen Looseleaf said...

I like the image of letters standing at attention in rows like soldiers. They're like toys in the playroom that come to life at night.

The Last Time/the sunday wordle -- poets united poets pantry

The Last Time The night black No stars in the sky Mood melancholy You appear before me Something I cannot forget No longer singing No lon...