A Saloon of Pure Twilight

 

 

 

 

My womb is a saloon of pure twilight,

yet the lamp of breaking dawn.

Longing for no fruit like bitter apples,

but for all the daughters and the sons.

Recalling a colder winter, my mind holds doubt

like an axe that cuts the cord.

Yet, my heart is a crafty weaver

mending together all the fabrics

whether tattered or even torn.

Then one day I gave birth to an ocean

in the shipwreck of my days,

and I let go of sorrows lonely helm

reaching out my hands to pray.

Now my hips have beheld eternity.

The echo of eons past, yet future’s song.

For my womb is a saloon of pure twilight,

and the lamp of breaking dawn.

Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List #13 (Gordon Lightfoot)

Image Source Photo by Rachel Claire from Pexels

One Hundred

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 100 

Time is the longest distance between two places. ~Tennessee Williams

When I was 10 years old

 time moved like an injured bird

seeming to slowly flail to the ground

I felt stuck right where I stood

 but I knew one day I too would fly

move on like 100 migrating birds

traveling fast and far to a better place

 then in my 20s I burned candles from both ends

trying to capture the moment like a roll of film

I entered every door that would let me in

racing around at 100 miles an hour

but getting nowhere I should be

now I am much older and we shall leave it at that

and time seems to move me faster than my feet can go

but it has taught me that now is where it is at

for I am content to linger right where I stand.

Note: With all that is going on in the world right now, I think we all have been feeling concerned and stressed.  Uncertainty can be a scary thing.  It is wonderful to be able to reach out to you all here in the way we always do.  No need to social distanced ourselves in blogland, and that is a blessing indeed!  Thank you, friends, for continually joining us at the Muse!  Your loyal participation and amazing poetry brightens my world every week!

The Hands of Time

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 88

Time is making fools of us again. ~J.K. Rowling

As a child I tried to swiftly chase time

Wanting to make it move faster ahead

Oil all the levers of every clock

See them dash around with fantastic speed

I longed for now to be later

And for later to be all that now was not

The freedom of adult sized shoes

To carry me where I wanted to go

And that was somewhere else

Up ahead in the distance

not where I stood

Years have passed since then

And I like the place where my adult shoes stand

Now is a precious commodity

I hold it gently yet very close

And I long to slow down the hands of time

Let the moments last longer and take it all in

For I look back and wonder where the time has gone

It slipped through my fingers

While I was so busy looking ahead.

Time Spirals On

Courtesy Google Images

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "Fussy Little Forms" ~ Rondelet

The rondelet is a short French poetry form featuring a strict rhyme and meter pattern plus a lovely repeated refrain.

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Time is making fools of us again. ~J.K. Rowling

Time spirals on
like steps in a mansion so grand
time spirals on
further onward with each step down
it is loose like a wayward man
can't catch it with the best laid plans
time spirals on.

Pull the Trigger Slow

image credit: Dick Blick Art

The Mag 244

"Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways." ~Stephen Vincent Benét

Life is fragile like a flower in winter 

yet tough like a loaded gun

 in a world where war and hunger

in some way touches everyone

so hold on to this moment 

hard yet tender like a rose

for there are bullets in the chamber

but pull the trigger and they quickly go.