she walks through nighttime streets
sleepwalker of the apocalypse,
ageless, aging,
strength leaving her body
yet still surprised by
her reflection
in shop windows.
sleepwalker of the apocalypse,
ageless, aging,
strength leaving her body
yet still surprised by
her reflection
in shop windows.
who is that scraggly-haired, round
woman in fading clothes,
long ago forever-young,
once able to
woman in fading clothes,
long ago forever-young,
once able to
command
with just her glance?
under the guise of old age,
invisible,
invisible,
spirit flagging,
she is the Observer, now:
of young people who believe
they will never be old,
of rich people who believe
they will never be poor,
of night streets breeding
dying dreams, false
she is the Observer, now:
of young people who believe
they will never be old,
of rich people who believe
they will never be poor,
of night streets breeding
dying dreams, false
hopes,
despair,
despair,
as the stars wink out, one by one,
across the sky of lost poems.
across the sky of lost poems.
For Sanaa’s prompt at Real Toads: the last line of a
poem by e.e.cummings: "in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems."
I took the whole poem as inspiration and tried to approximate
its tone.
How beautiful!!! Thanks for such a lovely poem!
ReplyDeleteWoww!❤️ This is absolutely stunning, Sherry! I love how you have incorporated the line here and was blown away by the image of "of night streets breeding dying dreams, false hopes, despair, as the stars wink out, one by one across the sky of lost poems." Thank you so much for writing to the prompt.❤️
ReplyDeleteMy grandma used to say that I was born old, and that I was very lucky. When I was very young, I couldn't understand what she meant. I didn't get to understand until after her flesh and bones had moved on, not until I was old enough to see that not everyone went through life understanding that the person right in front of them--young, old, rich, poor, health... or not--could be them, and that life gives no warning. Your poem made me remember those thoughts, reminds me why we should spread the goodness and understanding... since that person right in front of us today could be us tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteThe idea of lost poems is very powerful... inspiring, too... it makes the muse want to reach for a basket... :-)
I can so relate to this poem Sherry, and I love that title as well! Wise, true, and lovely!!!
ReplyDeleteSherry, I love this poem. The image of the ageless aging woman "still surprised by
ReplyDeleteher reflection
in shop windows" is perfect. You've really captured the tone of the original poem here and created such lovely comet trails of your own! - Victoria Stuart
"the sky of lost poems" What a line! You have captured the mood of the cummings poem so well. My reflection often startles me. It is an odd sense of seeing what I've seen etched across my face.
ReplyDeleteThank you, friends. I am feeling my age today, and am treating myself to a do-nothing day. Smiles. Susie, I like that sense of "seeing what I've seen." And we havent seen ANYTHING like the horrors we are watching now.
ReplyDeleteIt's an arresting and powerful vision you've created here!
ReplyDeleteYou have described old age beautifully ... for I believe that it is.
ReplyDeleteI love this, beautifully said. I can relate.
ReplyDeleteI like the young, rich, and dreams all falling to pieces. Time and reality take their toll.
ReplyDelete..
'The sky of lost poems' - how lovely!
ReplyDeleteThe opening stanza is a familiar scenario, Sherry, being surprised by our reflection
in shop windows seems to be par for the course. These lines are so powerful:
'of night streets breeding
dying dreams, false
hopes,
despair,
as the stars wink out, one by one'.
a very dark, under the stars, appropriately, setting, scene, yet it reveals with a delicacy, the fine light that still radiates, from the afterglow, pin-wheel light (even as stars wink out one by one) .... in the wisdom understood, observed, known ... and of course, it's only ever, truly, ever, pitch black, when there is absolutely no light left - anywhere - so as long as there is breath? ...
ReplyDeleteinteresting poem Sherry; this certainly has a remarkable pace and hmmm, punctuality to it; I rather like it. :)
"under the guise of old age,
ReplyDeleteinvisible," and the ending stanza - hits home a bit.
If someone flirted with me I think I would laugh. :) but honestly, I really don't mind. Thank God I have a family who cares what I think - to be alone is something I haven't experienced yet. You have written a poignant and beautiful poem.
I am constantly surprised at the old bits among the still young on my body...well annoyed is a better word. But how I love the world still and everything that is in it. That is my bargaining trick to keep going!
ReplyDeleteThe mood and tone of this poem really convey the message of the Observer. the final couplet is so poignant!
ReplyDelete