Gratitude
memory merry-go-round
There were four, then three - and Three searched for Four and howled, looking – a full year - in all of Three’s hiding places. Suddenly two were left, which made room, of course, since the four had become two. Two again turned into four . Suddenly, four became three , and Three was happy to find that he was among three , not four. We missed Four , but Three did not . Then he, Three , died, too. Two more came along for a short bit. But again, the circle repeated: four became two , and the last ones, the two who arrived last, were here after the original two were gone. The Original Two gone! Was it twelve years? Sketched into throbbing hearts and pulsating brains, revolving on the memory merry-go-round. Then, the circular cycle repeated, taking one of the last two Followed soon by the second’s departure, L e a v i n g the h u m a n s as T w o , and B e r e f t .
By Andrea Corwin 12 days ago in Poets
Check In
In the mirror's glint, a soft whisper calls, "Are you there?" it hums, as shadows dance, Echoes of yesterday linger in small stalls— Where dreams once bloomed in a tentative glance. Fingers trace the lines on a weathered face, Each wrinkle a story inked by time’s deft hand; Moments lost and found in this fragile space, An ephemeral map of where we stand. The ticking clock sighs with each fleeting beat, A metronome marking the pulse of the heart; Between breaths taken and words left to greet— There lies an invitation to play our part. Silence swells like tide pools beneath my skin, Eager for connection but wary of the storm; I check in with myself—beneath chaos’ din, To embrace all that’s broken yet still warm. With open palms I gather fragmented light, Turning shards into art with tender care; What was once chaotic is now painted bright— Each piece reflecting love’s intricate flare. So let us pause amidst our hurried spins, A moment seized where vulnerability wins; In this check-in of souls beneath vast skies— We find ourselves anew through heartfelt ties.
By Forest Green12 days ago in Poets
An Aeolian Harp
Introduction A line inspired this in the Tony Wilson book "Twenty Four Hour Party People" While Tony Wilson was sometimes mad and way out, he was also an intellectual, and either I didn't know or had forgotten the story of the Aeolian Harp. Don't you think Aeolian is a strange and beautiful word?
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 13 days ago in Poets
