Slipping Between the Cracks – Terza Rima 4-Seven (finit)

midst long dead leaves, audacious life abounds
gold button blooms, fat drops of shimmering dew,
songbird trills, whisp’ring breezes, morning sounds

things that slip to pale and out of view
when we’re distracted by things, overlooked
between, in darkened cracks where stuff falls through

oh, every day’s a chapter in a book
filled with the tragic, balanced by sublime
when i forget, it begs a closer look

“between the cracks”…a silly paradigm
that makes no sense, a symbol of the times

~kat

This week’s Terza Rima has turned into an epic quest beset by detours and distractions on the way to finding things forgotten, or having “slipped between the cracks”. But what does that oddly worded idiom really mean? Shouldn’t it read “between the slats” or something to that affect? There really is nothing between the cracks unless we take the phrase literally, and in that case it places those things that fall between them squarely on a solid surface in plain sight. Perhaps that’s the point of this silly, confused phrase. The stuff we’re looking for is always right in front of our face just waiting to be discovered.

If you care to relive each day’s offering, it’s posted below. My, my but I’m a big bag of wind! Ha! Peace out!

Slipping Between the Cracks

-One
old house abandoned, now wasting away
empty and dark with its doors shuttered tight
the old woman died, who once lived here, they say

no record exists of her obscure life
she lived in this house, built, 1918
the tree died too, when they turned out the lights

remembering when that tree was still green
smiles we exchanged; never knowing her name
gone with the mist now, forever unseen

-Two
where has the time gone in our little game
passion has fizzled, we pass in the hall
jump starts fall short, nothing’s the same

battered by life, our love’s weathered it all
the fire’s faded, it’s true, to embers
such comfort, ‘twill do ‘til the reaper calls

given the choice i choose love that’s tender
but how my heart thrilled once, hearing your voice
in the beginning, us…i remember

-Three
tossed to the curb, piles of junk, a few toys
nothing of value, or so someone thinks
a find for scavengers; cause to rejoice

they’ll save some collectible gems from the brink
clean them up nice; upload them to eBay…
mind what you pitch with that old kitchen sink

one man’s trash is a treasure, they say,
to those discerning, who know a thing’s worth
there’s still life left in what some throw away

-Four
while on my morning walk, a looming curse
a faceless copper penny caught my eye
pick it up and certain doom I might unearth

best to leave it there and walk on by
or better yet give it a happy turn
to pass good fortune on to the next guy

a single penny gained is thought absurd
for these days pennies don’t amount to much
even my two cents worth goes unheard

-Five
an ambush of lies, tall tales and such
sets gas lights aflame sowing questions and doubt
verity spiraling, fools out of touch

puppets on strings dance with lengthening snouts
while dark secrets spin behind closed door trysts
those who are woke try to figure it out

there is a legion of tools who insist
up is down, east is west, wrong, is all right
slow turns the screw ‘til truth cannot exist

-Six
a can of niggling worms looms as I write
I’m obsessed, unable to ignore
the innocents who’ve drifted from our sight

fractured families, children not cared for
species, numbers dwindling, resources razed
slipping between cracks; lost forevermore

precious treasures overlooked, throngs unfazed,
our better angels quickly losing ground,
their god is greed, they lavish him with praise

-Seven
midst long dead leaves, audacious life abounds
gold button blooms, fat drops of shimmering dew,
songbird trills, whisp’ring breezes, morning sounds

things that slip to pale and out of view
when we’re distracted by things, overlooked
between, in darkened cracks where stuff falls through

oh, every day’s a chapter in a book
filled with the tragic, balanced by sublime
when i forget, it begs a closer look

“between the cracks”…a silly paradigm
that makes no sense, a symbol of the times

~kat