One poem this week. One I wrote at the last Juncture 25 workshop.
Life has a habit if coming out of left field and telling you things you could never put into words. I had organised an exercise and as I set about the task with the others, out of the depths of my unconscious came this poem. Almost complete. I think I am standing too close to it to be critical. here it is.
For Christine
Moon for night, candle light,
a wooden triple candle stick,
burning fast, gone too quick,
the holder unnoticed smoulders.
Life has a habit of getting in the way.
A butterfly life, my dead dear wife,
that Santorini sunset
might have consumed the world,
what would we have done differently?
Living has a habit of getting in the way.
Can’t hold a candle,
so the wood keeps memories.
Saturday was your fiftieth birthday,
yet you never saw forty.
There is so much more I wanted to say.
I would be interested to know what you think of it.
Sad and beautiful. I think the last line is relatable for many people--who hasn't felt that way about someone?
ReplyDeleteThank you. I agree, we all need to say what we need to while we can.
DeleteIt's sad and lovely. I like it.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Your praise means a great deal.
DeleteLife does get in the way. Sorry for any loss you've experienced. I loved the poem. Blessing and peace to you.
ReplyDeleteTracey
Beautiful, last line resonates.
ReplyDeleteMarshall thank you. I appreciate your kind words. The poem wrote itself very quickly.
ReplyDeleteJanet I am glad you like the poem. I wrote it in a workshop. I suppose the feelings were poised to emerge.
Thank you both.