Sunday, September 9, 2018

It Happened A Long Time Ago/the sunday whirl -- poets united poets pantry

It Happened A Long Time Ago

The grass of my home
Thick, green, and
Cool to the touch
A delight to the toes

Grass that grows in the desert
Is different
It is often long, stringy
And course to the touch

Most of what grows in the desert
Usually has stickers
And doesn’t want to be touched
Often dried a golden color

How lovely the golden grasses
Rising from the sandy earth
To touch the blue sky
The wind that dances 

Among the desert grasses
Often becomes a dust devil
Before your eyes
The smoke rises from the fire

Wraps itself around me
Like time
Past, present and future
You say it happened

A long time ago
To me…
It seems like yesterday
The stars aligned

The accident 
A freak
Many said what happened
No two saw the same thing

It is hard to find the truth
Burned in fire
Washed in blood
Hung out to dry

September 9th, 2018

Wordle #368


Jae Rose said...

There is a great sense of story telling in this many questions to think about. Truly wonderful

Gillena Cox said...

Natural phenomenon will always leave us questioning. That too is good

Happy Sunday Annell

much love...

brudberg said...

The thorns of the desert, as the color I remember... I think the soft grass under my feet is sweeter for me.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I can see the wind dancing among the golden desert grasses. So beautiful. Then the memory of darkness in your closing lines. Powerful, my friend.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is beautifully melancholic. I can picture the 'the golden grasses'and weep as 'the smoke rises from the fire'..

annell said...

Dear Jae, so often there are only questions, no answers...thanks for your comment.

annell4 said...

Gillea Thanks for your comment. Your are right, Natural phenomenon will always leave questions.

annell4 said...

Thank you Bjorn, yes there is mor sweet and soft grass than found in the desert, but maybe because it is not abundant, it is also good.

annell4 said...

Thanks Sherry, I think that is what life is made of, "snaps and snails, and puppy dog tails." Some days bright and sunny and some days dark.

annell4 said...

Thank you for your comment Sanaa Rizvi, I think your telling of the story is just the way it happened.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

The medium here is grass -- one texture from the past, contrasted to the desert grasses of the present. The one is lushly green, the other a rough, torn beauty. How does truth touch both? You leave it as a question for this reader. You paint in series, don't you? Then surely there will be another vantage of this same question in a poem. Well done!

annell4 said...

I have written about this question many times. I like your comment, thanks Brendan.

C. Sandlin said...

This sparks so many questions...the grass shifting through space mirrors the shift in time but makes me wonder if the question is being posed back to the speaker as yet another mirror of perspective.

Wendy Bourke said...

This is one of those delicately drawn pieces that is so well written, it comes together very powerfully, as the poem progresses. The nuance and mystery that flutters from the lines are intriguing and evocative. I love the way that the words cascade off of the title. I love how, for me, the visual elements cast a haunting poignancy.

Toni Spencer said...

The grass, always the grass. The grass mirrors the shif in space and time and makes one wonder. I love the way the words tile off the title. Most vocative poem.

annell4 said...

Thank you C. Sandin, everyone knows,"what happened long ago." Each has his own story. Each knows a different event.

annell4 said...

Dear Wendy, thank you for your kind words. Your comments are always very special!! I hope one day to be able to comment like you do.

annell4 said...

Yes, Toni, grass is alwys grass. There are many unanswered questions in life, for all of us...we live through things, and when it is over, who can say? What happened exactly, what it meant, and will it happen again? Each must find his own answers.

Sara McNulty said...

Grass endures, through many changes. The last stanza is darkness rising. Love this poem, Angel.

annell4 said...

Thank you Sara, grass endures, except during years of drought.

Pat B said...

You paint a beautiful picture with your words. You present questions that many have pondered and then finish with those last three lines that settle on the heart and mind. Well done.

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