Saturday, April 28, 2012

Today's prompt: Find new images for speaking about your past.

All those broken threads
 dangling, memories like small beads
slipping into the cracks.

All those bridges burned,
those roads not taken.
dwindling into twilit space.

All those words, both uttered
and unspoken,
serving as paving stones to 
the present. 


Brian Miller said...

most the last stanza cause it is so true...its no mistake where we end up you know...

JeannetteLS said...

The image and the poem together speak such a simple truth so perfectly. A simple truth I work so hard sometimes to comprehend, my compass to tell me where I am, and pave a path ahead.

Just beautiful, Pauline.

Barbara said...

The image and words go together perfectly. You are on a roll, Pauline! So beautiful and full of truth and wisdom!

Kerry said...

This poem takes me to some sad places. So wise and lovely.

Pauline said...

Brian - anyone's past is checkered, I imagine, by things said or left unsaid. And I agree, we make our own paths, our own pasts and futures.

Jeannette, sometimes the simplest things seem the hardest.

Barbara - thanks - just two poems to go and the month of daily poems is over. It will feel odd to post prose!

Kerry - sad and happy both. I never imagined, when i set out as a child, to be where I am now but I don't know how to mend the broken threads nor how to unwalk certain paths. I guess the best thing going forward is to pay more attention, though I often think we all do the best we can at most moments.

steven said...

i've thought about my childhood ideas quite a bit and it's the strtangest thing but at no point in my life have i had a vision of the specifics of the surface features of my life . . . just a sense of how i wished to live . . . steven

Pauline said...

You are a lucky man, Steven. Most of us live more fully on the surface. I always wanted a place more than things, a feeling of security while I was adventuring. Even now, ideas, more than physical actualities, appeal to me. I've written Sunday's poem with that in mind...

Judith said...

A poem I can understand --
and appreciate ---
a small miracle.
Beautifully done, Pauline.

Pauline said...

J - what poets are you reading that are incomprehensible? I should think Mary Oliver or Wendell Berry or Marge Piercy would send your mind soaring!