the night lingering into day…no consolation when death comes a-calling
Magnetic Poetry - Poet’s Kit
2022 has been the year of the reaper in our little menagerie. First to fall, our sweet 18-1/2 year old diva kitty, Casey, on January 14th and next to succumb, was our 8-1/2 year old hunk-o-love, big boy Maxwell on February 22nd. The gray sky and rain are cooperating oh too well with the drama of it all. I’m a bit of a mess, especially around mealtime. Two less bowls to fill…:( Hug your fur kids, your kid kids, your grandkids, big kids, little kids…or find a tree and hug that. You never know…you just never know…RIP my lovelies…
I stopped blaming the muse a long time ago. It’s not her fault, my aversion to upstopping my mind and letting the words flow like raindrops, like they once did. I left myself behind in pieces, managing the simple routines that got me by for these past several years in holding. Years of wandering, wondering, worrying, angsting, working too hard has gotten the better of me and I was quite content to lock myself away in shelter while the plague ravaged the outside world. The beautiful words that once swirled in my head begging to be released in prose or poetry muted to a whisper…only a few blips managing to break free in the past year and then some. Seasons have come and gone, children have been born, cherished pets have crossed to the other side, and I still work way too long and hard, but I am not content to let this wave of apathy have the best of the best of me.
How I have missed this place and you…and for that matter, me. I’ve spent the past week or so rereading my own words. I suppose it is my way of trying to find myself, to breath life back into my heart and mind…and it may be working. It got me to this page…it got me through almost a year of blather, sparce as it was. What resulted had much to say to me. “Whisper the answers you seek”…I am whispering, but know I will not be content until I am once again shouting from the tops of the trees…and so there is only this for now. Precious words gleaned from the gray…no promises of more to come…know it is my heart’s longing to return.
A Year in ReVerse
oh i can list a few reasons
soft as a whisper,
or not...i forgot
days of rain, incessant raining
maybe not, doesn’t matter much now,
sing the song of the night
dreaming in green
the world turned blue
the page, left wanting
sunlight lingering into the evening,
i dress myself in tears these days
winter coming soon, too soon, just saying
hard to let go when the sickle falls
memories of seasons past,
whisper the answers you seek
when all that is left of us is dust
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) 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.
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