Thursday, April 5, 2018

BIRD WEATHER





She blew in on the Northerly,
and perched like a raven
in the corner of his heart.
With his blackbird soul,
his arms curled up across his chest
for protection,
he tried to shoo her off.
But the way she stayed
spoke to him,
and he dared to try again.

There were storms.
There are always storms.
But then the weather would clear.
The sunny days would lull them
For a time.

He was dark, craggy, beautiful
as an old mountain,
feet in the clay, head in the clouds,
his heart a wide expanse of yearning
for happiness elusive,
though it was right there 
in his grasp.

She was tentative as 
an early morning mist,
all hope and promise, yet fearful
of the fragile nature of vapour,
and its tendency to slip away.

There was heartbreak.
There is always heartbreak,
two souls too frightened to trust
what they had found.
She flew out
on the Westerly,
headed for the sea.

In old age,
she remembers his face,
so dark and beautiful above her,
the blue sky over his shoulder
on the rooftop
on summer afternoons.

The weather of love
is so changeable.
It requires more faith
than  injured hearts can give.


for Paul's prompt at Real Toads: the weather



20 comments:

  1. Wow i especislly luv the last stanza. And those lines of definite statements. Wow. Nice

    Much🌼love

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  2. Oh my word. This speaks to me on so many levels. It's beautiful and so sad, much like the lovers path.

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  3. The words you speak are probably true...yet,sometimes, just sometimes it can happen, and everybody rides, everybody takes a chance, without promise, it can happen. When least expected. Usually after everyone has given up.

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  4. Amen on the requirred faith! Clever move from the Northerly to the westerly. The Spirit and the Light are definitely in place in this poem!

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  5. This is lovely and sad. The two lovers and it is true. I love the bird analogies in the opening stanza and how you carry it through. One of your best Sherry.

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  6. So true of the path of some lovers this is, moving through all types of weather with a saddened heart,,,Lovely,,

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  7. This is so lovely... you tell a story so well with weather being metaphor for a lovestory never fulfilled.

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  8. Oh gosh this so beautiful, Sherry!💜 I agree the weather of love requires a lot of faith.

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  9. What a way to start a poem, Sherry:
    'She blew in on the Northerly,
    and perched like a raven
    in the corner of his heart'!
    I also love the imagery in:
    'He was dark, craggy, beautiful
    as an old mountain,
    feet in the clay, head in the clouds'
    and
    'She was tentative as
    an early morning mist'.

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  10. Sherry! Is this new? Cos it harkens back to the power and poetry of some of your older stuff. I really really like this. What was on *your* corn flakes this morning, woman? Just a marvelous portrait poem.

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  11. Just beautiful my friend. I love your portrait, strong and true.

    Elizabeth

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  12. I love your first three lines especially!

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  13. Missed opportunity for a nice, perhaps lasting, relationship. I've been on both sides, the mistrust held in my "injured heart" was harder to conquer than the naivety was hard to make corrections for. But conquer we did, the second Mrs Jim and I've been married 45 years now.
    ..

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  14. When two souls find one another in this world, they should cling fast for as long as they can.. the world is not kind to lovers.

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  15. Wow! This is so beautiful, and sadly wise. My new favourite of yours. (Mind you, I do seem to say that to you quite a lot!)

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  16. Both the sweetness of the best memories, and an ache and yearn in this like the one the weather can bring to old bones..I especially love "...beautiful/as an old mountain.." the fragile vapor, and the concluding two stanzas. Top of your form here, ma'am. A pleasure to read.

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  17. 'She was tentative as
    an early morning mist,
    all hope and promise, yet fearful
    of the fragile nature of vapour,
    and its tendency to slip away.'

    Gorgeous writing and melancholy floats through this poem. Love it!!

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