Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Chiselled


I chiselled at your image,
revealed the puzzle clear,
made luminous your heart,
left nothing else to fear.


Dumb were left the angels,
superior and wise,
lucid was my loving;
hollow were your smiles.


Foreign were the moments,
feckless were your aims;
drank the wine of sorrow,
saw the darkening stain.


There would be no winner,
once the die was cast,
drunk on sour misery;
mourn our time now past.

 

13 comments:

  1. That was tough for me. I need to know who is talking to whom. Too much of a puzzle for me. Any suggestions for this poor poetry reader?

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  2. Such a sad poem, so full of loss. "drunk on sour misery" So much bitterness in this. Not necessarily on your part, but on the part of those both who lost. Holiday and New Years blessings.

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    1. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you also.

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  3. One can shape and chisel to find an image one could love and when it doesn't fit the subject the loss is dear.

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  4. Beautiful and telling metre here Roslyn.. Lovely to read.

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  5. I like this phrase: "drunk on sour misery"

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  6. Loss can be so physical... the pain carving flesh... loneliness can do that to you.

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  7. That wine of sorrow can be very sour ~

    Wishing you and your family Happy Holidays!

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  8. There would be no winner,
    once the die was cast,
    drunk on sour misery;
    mourn our time now past.

    A sad reality in life can happen when least expected


    Hank

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  9. For some, happiness is not part of this Christmas season. I hope for you that is not the case and you are finding some joy.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you. This was written about old pain. There is much fulfillment in my life generally and for the season.

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