Nothing of great import

Remembrance/reflection

The willow by the pond
drowsily dipping its extended tips to trail
like the fingers of a lover’s hand
over the side as oars draw a humble small boat on

The children of Lir struggling upward
toward freedom and the sky
transforming
drooping and holding each other
which way are they changing
into swans or back again to human form

Travelers and exotic wailing beggars
gypsy keening on my nerves
Molly Malone standing guard
over the listless bodhran player
come to life again in the light of attention

Oscar opulently leaning on a rock
telling a tale forever gazing at his home
colorful as his dialogue
the typewriters and cases devoted
to other writers of other times
and the recordings didn’t help
because reading had to be done there

I retrace memories of all I have been told
of experience and how a life so loved
has been lived
questions remain to be asked
what would the format be
the medium of choice
for a scar’s provenance to be told
what is the knowledge that has traveled
through decades to now

The Rickster

November 5, 2003

Beatiful….

Title’s not true, and you know it! Intrigueing poetic question you take us into with your finely whittered images : ) Great Hugs

This reminds me of the seach for me. Why am I a compulsive gardener? Why do I cry when something beautiful strikes me as some kind of miracle? I was a seed in my mamma’s womb while she grew in her mamma’s womb, and my grampa taught me about flowers and butterflies when I was a baby.. holy wondering off the track! I am affected weirdly by your whitters sometimes. 🙂

Thanks for sharing this thought-provoking reflection.

DragonKat

🙂

Zenith

I wish my “nothing of importance” moments were as intriguing!!

Hi sweet poet. I’ve disabled private notes in both diaries. Nothing to do with you. Big hug 🙂

*hugs*

Singing Nun

Your imagery is wonderful ME – another masterpiece.

glitter & wings.

through decades to now…lovely. xoxo,

🙂 hugs,

Armiel

Again, you amaze me. **hugs**

songbird

I know a young boy who wrote such fantastic stuff I told him I wished I could get in his mind for a bit and see where it came from…how he gathered the words and aligned them into the finished product that was way beyond his years. Now…I would like to get in your mind, too, but there can’t possibly be room..grin. This is lovely, as usual. How DO you do this?? Hugs

noko

November 6, 2003

a life so loved indeed.