Sunday, March 25, 2018

People Die, Friends Leave/Sunday's Whirligig



People Die, Friends Leave

“People die, friends leave”
This morbid truth
Said by a forgotten someone
Advice should not be given
Unless asked
Even then it can be dangerous

Soon it will be April first
Fool’s Day
To be a fool is not an illness
Rather it is a characteristic of humans
We are all capable of this malady

The shadows in the room
Are carefully considered
Add character
Daylight creeps in
Casts shadows in the room
Great care is taken

Goals are set
Working as though in a trance
Eight days…
And I have hardly started
I continue as if I am led
The muse instructs me

March 25, 2018













17 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Yes, we each have our moments of being a fool. I have many scalding memories, lol. I love how your work leads you and the muse instructs you.

brudberg said...

Especially love the first stanza... I fear when that will happen (aging)

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This brought tears to my eyes. Beautifully poigant.

Mary said...

It is true that people die, that friends leave. It is also true that
we can do nothing about these realities. Thank goodness for a muse
that instructs...that is a blessing!

Gillena Cox said...

Luv the harmony of a muse that leads and one who understands

Thank you for dropping by my Sunday Standard today Annell

much love...

ayala said...

Lovely piece!

Wendy Bourke said...

Human foibles and frailties - and how we interact and move through them - until such time as we either, leave ... or die. There is a lot of places to go to, in this piece.

Susan said...

To create, we have to have something moving through us, and I enjoyed the wisps here--the adage, the advice, the recognition of the human condition and the work in these shadows. Bravo!

Vivian Zems said...

Your muse leads you....I like that. And yes, we're all fools at some point.

Thotpurge said...

Oh i miss my muse... forget guiding, has completely vanished leaving me like a fool!

Old Egg said...

I am ever grateful to my Muse, he or she is a good lass. We both have a good laugh and she likes Australian wine!

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Thank God for the Muse!

dsnake1 said...

every stanza has that little dose of wisdom imbued in it. just wonderful.
but i will listen to the muse anytime. :)

rallentanda said...

Excellent use of the words. Some have a greater propensity for the said malady than others. They usually are vulnerable and have a kind heart... a prize for predators.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

"Eight days" is the sort of count the grieving use, each day that fraught. The poem doesn't get specific about the harrow but the delicacy of observation feels great fraught by whatever that is. (Great irony this year, April Fool's and Easter coinciding.)

Magaly Guerrero said...

Death happens... To get even, we should happen to life with all our hearts.

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

When my mother died, I counted first the days, then the weeks, then the months, and then the first year. It has now been 15 years since that fateful day. The speaker in your poem got to eight days. I've heard of a book called Eighth Day of Creation. Perhaps on the eighth day something new is created in the speaker's heart, something that will slowly displace the shock and grief.

Christmas Comes Slowly/dVerse/early

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