An Asheville, NC B&B
Photography by: Margaret Bednar
the dust is ever-present
while the hours are fragile & wrinkled in jars
the roof is semi-ruined,
cardboard & ash contained
or maybe its just my eyes
crestfallen, turning steeply into themselves
because you, my love
have hurled doubts
stones
rumored & worn out,
craving
for another mouth to kiss -
Posted for: Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Play It Again & Kenia's Word Challenge List
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~
we oft don't see these things until our eyes are opened to them
ReplyDeletefor better or worse...and then that is all we can see.
the hours fragile in wrinkled jars...what a description
A matter of perspective ~ Our eyes see what it wants to see all the time ~
DeleteThanks Brian ~
This is a wonderfully rich poem, and the perfect blend of two prompts.
ReplyDelete...fragile hours... You have a wonderful way with words. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI could feel a certain empathy while I read this one. Its strange how the reader could share the emotions with the writer,a strange alchemy I think. Certainly loved this.
ReplyDeleteI think if one has these thoughts or experiences, one can empathize with the writer ~
DeleteIt like a bulb going off your head, hey I know that ~ Thanks for the visit ~
Oh, I love this, it's raw emotion. We're made of these things, not many of us can talk them out.
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing to my prompt, Grace. You're writing beautifully, you know that. :)
Kisses <3
Thank you for the word list prompt Kenia ~ And kisses too, smiles ~
DeleteLove ' hours are fragile & wrinkled in jars' ...'eyes
ReplyDeletecrestfallen, turning steeply into themselves' ~ wow ...and the subject, "my love" has so many transcription...I choose the house as subject since it is the title :) Peaceful Sunday, Grace xx
powerfully expressive poetry and well penned ~
ReplyDeleteartmusedog and carol
www.acreativeharbor.com
"the hours are fragile and wrinkled in jars"… that is awesome. I love long walks through old neighborhoods and I see the outside charm, immaculate gardens, etc. - but what goes on inside just can't be all "perfect" and this poem certainly points that out! Nicely done, Grace.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the lovely pictures Margaret ~ Yes, what goes on inside those lovely houses can't be "all perfect" and immaculate as their garden ~
DeleteThe ravages of time may be ever present, and yet its beauty rages on in my mind's eye. A lovely home sweet home. Your poem clearly sheds this thought ..... very nice.
ReplyDeletethis captured me but i'm struggling with what is happening. i evern read it five times.
ReplyDeletemaybe i've lost my comprehension intuition. love your words, metaphors, etc., though
When your love has doubts or runs out of the door, you see the house differently ~ Also, I have used the word list from Kenia as prompt ~
DeleteThanks for humoring me, smiles ~
I really love that closing line...it makes me wonder of the meaning here. Sometimes I am not good at deciphering them.
ReplyDeleteIts okay Keith ~ Thanks for the visit ~
DeleteThis is just wonderful Grace.. these raw feelings..especially in that last line...
ReplyDeleteThe holes and scars and what have you just add to it
ReplyDeletefilled with poignancy - and that line 'while the hours are fragile & wrinkled in jars' stunning! K
ReplyDeleteThis poem has an intensity to it, Grace; and the ending is painfully heartbreaking to the one involved. How sad to feel that one's love was seeking someone else.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the analogy between the house and the broken relationship!
ReplyDelete"the hours are fragile and wrinkled in jars" - what a stellar line! The poem reveals a slow disintegration, as awareness grows. Great write!
ReplyDeleteExcellently powerful and emotional words.
ReplyDeleteexcellent, the end in particular!
ReplyDeleteThere's a sad note of betrayal here that rings true.
ReplyDeleteNice use of imagery. Hmmm, me thinks the narrator here to be a bitter one, but well earned. Good work!
ReplyDeleteYikes! Leave the dust ...
ReplyDeleteThis is...special and strong Grace!
ReplyDeleteHow sad when a home would end up as only' almost a home. ' This is a felt piece, Grace. A truly inspired write. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteThe sadness of heart is enveloping the world....a powerful write...
ReplyDeleteoh, see, this is brilliant, Grace: hours are fragile & wrinkled in jars, and so smoothly absorbed both prompts into one mix... have a good week ~
ReplyDeleteWhat happens behind closed doors...felt the emotions Grace x
ReplyDeleteBeautiful Grace! Your poetry never seizes to amaze me! Thank you for that! :-)
ReplyDeleteah, Grace. This one made me a bit sad. Reminders of turning inward. Great writing. As always, thank you and have a beautiful week!
ReplyDeleteMasterful use of the word list .... Wrinkled hours AND in jars? Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteYou did an amazing job. Like how you incorporated the words.
ReplyDeleteooh...ouch..."the hours are fragile & wrinkled in jars" is dazzling poetically. Painfully beautiful poem Grace.
ReplyDeletenice picture!
ReplyDeletevery nice blog by the way :)
kisses from Russia,
Juliet
RUSSIAN DOLL
Oh, this just oozes pain, Grace. I can almost taste the imminent betrayal. I love how much you evoke in so few words.
ReplyDelete