Within Your Light

Within Your Light

“Perhaps I will become a ray of sunshine, to be embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas.”
                              Amrita Pritam

The words have flowed
from the moment I met you.
With paper as my canvas
I paint the words you bring.

From a distant beacon
over darkest waters
to the romantic light
of a candle’s flame.

From the subtle light
of a full moon’s glow
to the faintest light
of the farthest star.

These words of love,
the paint on my canvas,
are revealed to me,
found within your light.

This is my response to Poetics: Woman are people: Invoking Amrita Pritam, the prompt at dVerse Poets Pub in which Punam asks us to write a poem using one of five lines by Amrita Pritam as an epigraph.

Image source: morguefile.com

Embrace the Change

Embrace the Change

“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose”
                              Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

Time waits for no man.
How I wish I could refute that.
But here I sit, about to finish
my seventh decade, knowing
there are things I will never see,
people and places I will never know.

I look to you, my children, with pride,
and I call to you with hope
for a bright future and a reminder
to live each moment as if it were your last.
No two are the same, and nothing is routine.

You will have losses you will overcome.
In those times, feel my embrace.
You will have accomplishments
I will never know, but know
that my pride for you will never end.
That is the one thing that will never change.

This poem is my response to Day 7 at napowrimo.net, where Maureen asks us to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose” loosely translates to “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” It’s from Les Guêpes, a satirical monthly journal printed in the 1840s by Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr.

Image source: geralt at pixabay.com

Once Broken, Healed

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
                                                  Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (1929)

Once Broken, Healed

What is loss, but an empty space?

And what is an empty space,
but that which waits to be filled?

The last generation that was,
at the time of your passing,
was not the last generation.

That which follows holds a place
of its own that encompasses
that which once was, always will be,
you, knowing all that you were
and all that you held.

 

This poem is another response to dVerse Poetics – One True Sentence, the prompt from Lisa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use one of the sentences provided, quotes from the works of Ernest Hemingway to write a poem.
When my father died in 1993 he had eight grandchildren, aged from one to twenty-two. There are now fourteen great-grandchildren (including two adoptions). All of them know, or will know, him.

Shared with Open Link Night #295 – Midsummer Live at dVerse Poets Pub.

Long Past Spring

It is very hard to write this way, beginning things backward…
                                                  Ernest Hemingway, The Torrents of Spring (1926)

The Torrents of Spring_coverLong Past Spring

Each passing year,
I think more of my youth.
But what words to write,
when memory grows dim
and tales that come to mind
could be mine or belong
to another? Would the world
know the difference? Would I?

 

This poem is my response to dVerse Poetics – One True Sentence, the prompt from Lisa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use one of the sentences provided, quotes from the works of Ernest Hemingway to write a poem.
Hemingway’s novella, The Torrents of Spring, is one that I have not read. Ironically, after writing this I read the Wikipedia article about the novella to learn that there is a character who, regarding the protagonist, “enthralls him with her store of literary (but possibly made up) anecdotes.”

Image source: Wikipedia.org