Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Season's Whisper

 
 

 
Season's Whisper
(A Quadrille)
 
 
Birds falter
from the sky. Kapitans cry.
Bodies lie,
blind eyes on streets
rubbed down to bone.
 
Still
the season whispers.
 
Living wings fly,
buds swell like grief unbound.
The wilding wind 
knows nothing
of our long drown.
 
The season whispers.
Life is found.
 
 
April 2022 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 









posted for dVerse Poets:



and 
for earthweals' weekly challenge:














Note: "..Kapitan is a commissioned officer rank ..in..the NATO officers rank system..[adopted by Ukraine,]used to specify commanding officers of company-sized units..."~wikipedia







Images:Detail of Scene in Bucha, Ukraine, April 2, 2022 after Russian retreat, ©Reuters/Zohra Bemsemra, cropped to sepia,  Fair Use
Magnolia buds against March tree canopy, 2016, © joyannjones
 

18 comments:

  1. "The season whispers." I am feeling this conundrum, too - atrocities happening, while springtime buds open.........beautifully expressed.

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  2. In spite of what mankind does to one another and to the earth, the earth will endure but indeed, we will not. So much sadness.

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  3. Life will find a way, as Mr. Goldblum has opined. Despite all of our violence, cruelty, heedlessness, greed, short-sightedness and sheer global-scale jackassery, life finds a way. I don't know whether that make me feel happy or disgusted--both, probably.

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    1. Whispering may seem an odd choice when writing about something as bombastic as war, but it absolutely works here, because nature (or timeless things, if you will) do not subscribe to human noise bit to their own much more subtle wavelength.

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  4. The chills running thru my body as I sat here reading this ~ all too real. Beautifully crafted, Joy and thanks for leaving me a comment.

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  5. Seasons will continue, we will finish ourselves. This makes my heart ache.

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  6. I have always found that nature has its way of being relentless, sometimes mocking but often consoling our grief... great writing

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  7. Birds falter...that is such a powerful image. You take the world's grief and find the seeds that grow regardless of what humans do.

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  8. Joy this Spring, "buds swell like grief unbound." Life and death interlocked this season in a haunting fashion. The grim determination some have to destroy gets overwhelming. A very powerful setting you have painted in your Q.

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  9. whispers make one lean in... and the impact is all the greater ~

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  10. Winters are hard in Ukraine if you go on the visual evidence, and early springs looks raw and brown with the bodies and tank treads. That ambience is umbered thickly here; but the eye drifts to the real world where life goes on as it must and will. You nailed so much in 44. Great title.

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  11. It does seem a strange juxtaposition to witness such wanton brutality at the onset of spring.

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  12. These are such extreme times. Your poem captures the profound moment when it seems all life hangs in the balance. I love the picture of the flower blooming at the end. Suzanne - Mapping Uncertainty

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  13. Beautiful and visceral and true.

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  14. "The wilding wind
    knows nothing
    of our long drown."

    This is beautiful, Joy. I love the empathy in your writing.

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    1. Thanks, Sunra--that actually is my own favorite line form this. Sorry to be late getting it out;sometimes I forget I have blog moderation on after three days, because for years I never used it, but there is just too much obnoxiousness out there and too many bots any more. Thanks so much for coming by and commenting.

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  15. well said Joy. i hate seeing this happen, i hate seeing this kind aggression. democracy is under attack around the world, not just here, and we can give a inch. so much death, its hard to watch.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats

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