It seems futile to release a post today. #36 may well fall flat in light of current events.
Even so WLW is my choice, if not habit.
This is a writersliftwednesday blog, sharing the works of fellow writers, poets, artists (including photographers, painters, etc.) and persons random. All re-blogs will be linked appropriately to their authors and creators.
Writing is no easy calling and nothing easy was ever worth doing. Support each other by sharing, liking and commenting.
(1) In reflection of today: “waiting / waiting / for something to break,” from the long, dark night of the soul by Michael Raven.
(2) “And the days are not full enough,” a reflection on Ezra Pound’s poem of the same name, by Luisa Zambrotta.
(3) “how its petals envied your lips,” an extract from the poem, “Summer Picnic,” by Bartholomew Barker.
city on a hill
mendacity and hate
for something to break
And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.
Ezra Pound (1885-1972) – Lustra (1916)
This poem says a lot about the transience of life in a few, simple words.
It starts with the word “and” to sound like the conclusion of a speech, of a thought or rumination that has been going on for some time.
Fresh cut grass under our blanket
your warm skin ‘neath my fingertips
a tree is blooming above us
and its petals envy your lips
The low branches waltz in the breeze
to the music guiding your hips
flowers open to catch the sun
and their petals envy your lips
That summer picnic long ago
like that bottle of wine we sipped
still I remember that blossom
how its petals envied your lips