Thursday, July 5, 2018

metaphor dice iii











in my mind my mind
is now dotted with ill-used fields
many barren a few overgrown
    wild wasted bad bleak neglected
                desolate deserted
it happened gently insofar as it was
not planned
not managed
not even noticed
         stealthy workings of my mind
beneath my mind
walking there now
there are pits brambles nettles stones
          & the occasional bright meadow
    of long-stalked perennials
that keep reaching each year
                to a cloud-studded sky
                 lit by crepuscular rays


draft  ©HM 2018

2 comments:

  1. I've been watching a lot of home fixer-upper shows lately. They are the background for some writing, walking the treadmill and washing dishes. The shows in the UK tickle me because of the lingo. Rooms/homes are sometimes describes as "tatty" or "unloved." Your poem reminds me of one of these shows in a way that a room in a house has gone unloved for a while....not intentionally so. But, it's a really, really good description of what time and the busy-ness of all that goes on in time can do...an erosion of sorts. I love the very complete picture this poem paints.

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  2. Loving this one!! Sometimes we don't notice how things slip away from us--until we do. BEAUTIFUL.

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