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Offering

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You bear your scars well
and hide your wounded heart
behind a wall of activity.

I want to silence the mockers
and challenge the foe.
But you insist on picking up that cross.

And you are right
and wrong
at the same time.

And my heart is breaking
for the brokenness
of Adam’s sons.

The Weeping Philosopher

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The Obscure spoke. Most shook their heads and turned away. “The way up and the way down are the one and same. Living and dying, waking and sleeping, young and old, are the same.”  Heraclitus watched them walk away and scorned them. Why could they not see that all things change and arise from change and then change again? Round and round and round we go. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Feed and be fed. Breathe and be breathed. Closed system continually reshaping, remoulding, reworking itself. Atom to atom, cell to cell. A riddle within a rhyme.

cycles of nature
regenerating the earth
world in a raindrop

 

 

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Over at dVerse it’s Haibun Monday and Toni is hosting the event.  Today’s theme is “change” and it brought to mind the words of Heraclitus, “The only thing that is constant is change.”

Cleri-Who? Two

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I have enjoyed reading the Clerihew poems over at dVerse.

I tried my hand at this form before.  Here is my previous offering:  Cleri-Who?

It is not an easy thing to do, although it is short and sweet.
Here are my offerings today:

 

Gene was wild, bright and free.
Comedic timing to a tee.
He worked until he honed his craft.
Now he makes the angels laugh.

 

Mr Carver and his green thumb
Told the farmers how it’s done
They laughed and scoffed until they heard
Peanuts were used to make the bird.

 

Why don’t you give it a try?

I Miss You

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There is truth in what they say
about Time being a healer.
I resisted his attempts
at mending my heart,
wanting to feel the sharp ache,
thinking that if it became dull
I would lose the outline of your smile,
the fullness of your laugh,
the intensity of your eyes.

But he caught me sleeping at my post
and crept in with iodine and plasters.

Somehow the pain has mellowed
like a rich Merlot
and is lined with a soft sweetness —
the gentle reminder of your love,
the resounding echo of your voice:
“Courage, comrade.
Fix your gaze on the author
and run with steadfastness
the course marked out for you.”

And so I run,
encouraged by your witness,
surrounded by a great cloud.

But as I run,
I recall our synchronised gait
and I miss you
all over
again.

Tight Grip

32 Comments

Your open smile and cloudless eyes
convict
and the granite fist
clenched behind my back
comes around.

Exposed
I want to let go
but cannot move.
With hesitant permission
you peel away the fingers.

This now empty hand
you fill
with laughter
and love.

 

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Victoria is today’s hostess over at dVerse where she is serving up QUADRILLEs, poems of exactly 44 words each, and challenges us to reflect on the word OPEN.  Join in!

Grief

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I am too heavy for this world.
My heart sinks like lead
through the mantle
and
I cannot rise again.

The very core should cry out
with the burden,
the weight of sorrow.

Painful scars
line the face of earth
and will not heal
until she is remade.

fine line

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face
in hands.

hands
feeling thin skin pulled taut over rigid skull.

observing how fine the line
between life and death.

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