Where were you when the lights went out?
The Sunday Whirl blog invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “wordle’s” 12 word.
This week’s words are:
All the stars gone out.
All the flames,
One by one.
Of our lives,
Brood all the winter long.
Brood, but when the dark sting of winter ebbs, and
The earth heats back up, and
The green spring returns, and
The waters of the creek rise anew;
Knead the bread of life again.
I like these words of encouragement (b/c I don’t like winter). Spring is always right around the corner. Happy New Year!
Lovely poem, Randy. I especially love your last line (being a bread lover myself.)
I can love without it…
Most follow-ups that come to mind are filled with double entendre so I’ll just loaf around and not use any of them. I’m too white bread. 🙂
Just don’t be a heel.
since, as you may know or remember or not know at all, my full time job is school busing:
the heels on the bus go ’round and ’round
(And, just so that you do know, time wounds all heels)
and lastly, you just inspired me to write a small ditty about healing!
Thanks – it will be posted soon. With a footnote to you.
It may green again, but it will never be the same. Powerful poem. I feel the grief.
I agree. I agree.
never the same.
I liked this very much. Happy New Year and God bless you, WV.
Thank you – and Happy New Year to you – and blessings back to you and yours.
There is much to be sad about – but much to be grateful for, too.
tough subject – I respect that you processed it through writing…
it is one tool that helps us all
I must agree with Tumblewords: you used these words well. Spring will come, but things will never be the same.
I left you my wordles about your wordles on your page…
The poem may be “too soon” but spring will happen…most definitely with heavy hearts, and not only in Connecticut but in all the places all across America where innocents were shot at the hands of crazies.
And in the ghetto’s every day where drive-by’s daily kill babies