Thursday, October 3, 2013

Shards


pot shards
Shards



I still look for you
wrapped in sequined night,
breathing green
between the trees

though it's long
since ceased
being you
that's there to find

and I don’t,
there or
in the greywreck shed
where my  hammer

smashes speckled pots;
still ,       still
behind my rocksalt eyes
a clean sky hides,
a blue wind sighs.

~October 2013






55 oddly shaped bits for      the g-man




Hover mouse for image attribution, or click on pic to go to photographer's flick'r page


19 comments:

  1. Oh, this is wonderful. I love "breathing green between the trees" ...and the final two lines "a clean sky hides. a blue wind sighs."
    You have such a way with words. I'm sure I've said that before, and I'll probably say it again. a) because I've forgotten I said it before, and b) because it's so true.
    Luv, K

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  2. Though its long since ceased being you... yet she still looks, still remembers...

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  3. a clean sky hides behind the eyes...as you smash pot after pot...well now...def some cool lines in this joy...

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  4. You do indeed have a wonderful way with words Hedgewitch.
    It's the meaning that throws me for a loop!
    I get a head ache trying to figure out your visions.
    But I'm very grateful that you share with the Enlightened ones Your 55 Mastery.
    Thank You Joy for being so Cool
    Have a Kick Ass Week-End

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  5. You really do create amazing images. I just love the final two lines.

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  6. Such a pretty (sad) poem. The end is especially poignant - it feels like a bird call - it lingers in the air and yet is all there is, and yet one expects more, and yet is all there is, which is also (I think) the sentiment of the poem. a lovely transition also between the sequins night and the greywreck shed, and the shards-- and sequins also is kind of shard like when you think of it, at least it's broken into little bits, albeit shiny. Agree with Galen--thanks for being so cool. And will also echo his last notion, though I was not raised to repeat it. k.

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  7. Came back to read this again -- Brian is right -- the clean sky hiding behind the rock-salt (motre bits) eyes is very beautiful. I was just thinking that this was kind of the opposite of Hopkins praising God for dappled things, pied beauty (ha!) as I compare the clean sky/blue wind with those darn speckled pots. k.

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  8. This moves and develops wonderfully, almost miraculously in the 55 words. From the magical immateriality of the one-no-longer-there, to the catharsis, to a recognition of the finality of the distance between 'then and now'...a very exceptional journey. Very fine poem.

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  9. Absence can make one's departed beloved into something similar to, but not quite who they were or are. The idea of them takes on a life of its own without the give and take, the AC if you will. DC makes its own rules and comforts or tortures us long after. The whole thing is fine, but the final three lines are particularly stellar. "Rocksalt eyes"? That's goood.

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  10. BEAUTIFUL!!!! And those two closing lines are just magnificent!

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  11. Those last three lines are brilliant. I can relate to the need to break something on a day when life seems all too hard to bear.

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  12. smashes speckled pots;
    still , still
    behind my rocksalt eyes
    a clean sky hides,
    a blue wind sighs
    poetry, another reality:
    art containing an alternate space,
    stopping time long enough to resist the flow. . .

    maybe even cycle backwards but at least HOLD

    HOLD

    HOLD. even if it hurts to

    HOLD. shards.

    thank you H.


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  13. I struggle with the meaning but the last three lines are so gorgeous on my ears.

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  14. Your poetry always transports me, hedgewitch. Late making my 55 rounds...stormy crazy weather we're having. Hope you have a full-to-the-brim-with-beauty weekend.

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  15. What a dark delight this poem is...so full of longing. The last three lines, yes, perfect. The whole poem is wonderful.

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  16. Oddly, but beautifully shaped. Love the lines:

    behind my rocksalt eyes
    a clean sky hides,
    a blue wind sighs.

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  17. this reminds me of the way we grieve loss in the sublime parts of the day. green between the trees, in the greywreck shed. I love Greywreck! and also especially enjoy the clarity of your closure.

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  18. It has that haunting and lingering on effect

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg