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She collects tiny pearls and glass eggs
children's things that might have glittered in the sun
unraveling shadows that pass beyond sorrow
where beggars gather then disappear
accusing herself of various treasons
the headaches that last a lifetime
wrapping tears in bits of tissue
Every week or so she empties her pockets
of tiny glass eggs collected one story at a time
the memories of John Barleycorn and other men
whose rapes and betrayals still touch them all
like beggars clambering for change
and she holds them close, the girls and the beggars,
knowing tears are cold comfort.
The memories are all so different
the faded lies and stolen childhoods -- the tiny glass eggs
she collects in small bits of tissue
and carries in her pockets
for once, folding their shadows and sorrow
together
M.S.Leavitt
"jd4george"
Despite the fact that I'm clueless as to what "glass eggs" refers to, I had to come back to this over and over again.
This person is a master of repitition, a tool of forms, without the form. Nice!
"unraveling shadows that pass beyond sorrow"
"for once, folding their shadows and sorrow"
I would have reversed the order of shadows and sorrow in the second line (for what that's worth).
This is the one weak spot in the whole poem.
"cold comfort"
Thermometer does not go high enough, much better than a 100,
I hope to get to your others.
...the works of a talented new poet is like opening a gift - which suppose they are - gifts. Thank you for this lovely gift, jd.
I can't say much more than the others have, but I feel the need to say something...
Emotional and poignant without being preachy... a very hard thing to balance and still find time to be poetic...good work. My favorite of your introductory triad of poems.
It's rare that a poem overwhelms me. This one did. How beautiful and poignant and sad. How personal and yet of a very socially relevant context. How multifaceted and yet inherently so simple in essence.
I just ran off at the mouth there, didn't I? Better to go take care of that.
are you fucking kidding me? What's a word that's better than poignant, cause that one just doesn't do it justice, it's like telling someone you love them, when the feeling outgrows the word.
I've got me some eggs, and a box or two of puffs plus, I'm ready to remember.