So…yep, last week was not the greatest of weeks. I give it a three. In other words not a total wipe out, but as weeks go, I’ve seen better.
It should not be at all surprising that today’s ReVerse has a mean, melancholy streak. It’s weird how that happens. Try as I might to infuse each day’s verse with happy thoughts, affirmations and the like, the truth niggles its way to the surface. It’s like a gray funk that disturbs my serene surface; like those globs of sludge jiggling on a stagnant pond, bits drifting on the breeze, splattering into oblivion. Yep, this past week was ugly like that…don’t ask.
But next week will be better. How can it not be? So please forgive this week’s dreary dirge. There is hope. Call me crazy, I still hope, even in the darkest of times.
Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 5 August 2018
the alchemy of magic thrice infused
three dimensions mete where flat planes meet air
there is no truth
the power to overcome
it won’t do any good
plead the fifth, to any third degree
before the harbor maiden raised her beacon
denying the adoration of those poor
in the dumps, in a blue funk
come and gone, sparks of light,
lay the bones, worm-stripped bare, no trace
who settled scores, who buried men alive,
the roses have gone
through our fingers
A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.