Song of Fire – Part XI

One by one we bid each other goodbye.
There are the hugs given to friends who are
heading to the airport from where they’ll fly
to some resort. They never seem too far
away, as we know that they’ll soon be back.
Harder, though, are those final farewells, said
to loved ones who have stepped beyond the crack
that separates this world from the next. Red
eyed from grief, it might be tempting to think
we’d be better off if we didn’t bare
our souls to that most temporary link
called friendship, and yet, how sad not to dare!
for though each life like each flame one day ends
we’re richer for the time we’ve spent with friends

~~

for dVerse Open Link Night

The whole cycle, thus far, can be found if you click on the link for “The Elements – Sonnet Cycles” at the top of this page, and then select “fire”

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Dotted Line

A border is a crossing/division/barrier
a dotted line on a map that says
this side/that side
a dotted line that says
trust/suspicion
truth/propoganda
mine/should be mine
a dotted line on a map that gives
an excuse for hate
a dotted line that says
war/war

~~

“Border” is the theme of the day over at dVerse

Thief

I wonder if you’d open up your door
if you already knew it was a ploy:
that he who knocks loves very little more
than doing things to break and to destroy?

for surely while your door is open wide
his henchmen use the moments that you stand
bewildered by the door to come inside
a window or the back door as they’d planned

or would you go and check your locks to see
that all your doors and windows are secure
and you would do all that you can to be
as safe as you can be, I’m pretty sure!

The Devil knocks to tempt each one to sin
why do we open up to let him in?

~~

Based loosely on John 10:10

Communion

I cannot fathom the idea of sinlessness –
my life is permeated with sin
Thoughts go astray that I do not rein in
I take actions that I shouldn’t
(and don’t take actions that I should)

Even the good that I do is
too often sullied by a
desire for praise
or a sense of self-righteousness

I am like a land
blanketed in thick smog
for the last thousand years
where no eye has seen
the blue of the sky
nor can they imagine it

so how can I fathom
that the one who was sinless
would wear as a cloak
all my filth
so that I
can truly be clean?

my heart cannot hold
the amount of thanksgiving
that is owed to my Saviour
for his gift
his unimaginable gift
his indescribable gift
his unfathomable sacrifice

for what kind of sense does it make
for the whole to be shattered
to mend the fragmented?
and yet somehow
that’s exactly what happened!

Salt and Pepper

there’s salt and pepper at my temples
and salt and pepper in my beard
yes my hair’s colour proves that I
am getting older (as I feared)
and while it would be nice
to be youthful forever, I think
I’d miss that peppery spice!

~~

for dVerse. Quadrille challenge is to write a 44 word poem including the word “pepper”.

Lawnmower Man

 

lawnmower.jpg

folks are hunkered down
in bunkers ‘neath the earth
but one brave dude still mows his lawn
and whistles tunes with mirth
“storms won’t stop my chores”
he tells his friends, “becoz’
I really want to go and meet
that wizard guy in Oz”

~~

a few days ago, a tornado passed near the town of Three Hills, Alberta (Canada).  One brave (insane?) guy decided to continue mowing his lawn, and his wife took this picture.  When asked about why he would continue doing yard work, he told reporters, “I was keeping an eye on it”.  As far as I know, he wasn’t really hoping for a free ride to Oz.

Sharing this with dVerse, where the Quadrille prompt this week is to use the word “storm”

The Challenge of Art

as a poet I’ve discovered
that the beauty an artist intends
is never quite transferred
from mind to completed project
Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony
in all its glory is merely a glimmer
of what was in his mind.
Van Gogh’s Starry Night
while stunning
cannot compare
to the splendour
of the loops and swirls
that he saw in his mind
before he picked up his brush
and I so often
strive for words
that will stun the reader
with their beauty
but must finely settle
for something
so much less
even this poem
does not really say
what I wish it to.