For the (fictional) series, "Edges".
His Voice
No More Adventuring
The same bodies around the table,
His Voice
No More Adventuring
The same bodies around the table,
the same faces peering from the windows,
either too early or late for that big event
called life – really living. The owner of the place
is ailing and the others just milling about.
Even the rain, throwing them together,
fails to create a bonding against
the world out there, of trade and greed.
They delay their departure longer each year,
too anxious and afraid to keep seeking the Grail.
Also used for April 2018 Poetry Month, day 10
Linked to the Tuesday Platform for 10 April 2018 at "imaginary garden with real toads".
Also used for April 2018 Poetry Month, day 10
Linked to the Tuesday Platform for 10 April 2018 at "imaginary garden with real toads".
And yet, this is the edge we must live on, in hope that the bonding will allay the fear. And at times, it does, precious moments that make the reality you describe so clear.
ReplyDeletePrecious moments indeed. But will they serve sufficiently?
Deletestrangely dark
ReplyDeleteThe danger of giving up in despair – as many are inclined to do at this time.
DeleteI like the idea of bonding against the trade and fear. A new voice in this poem, my friend.
ReplyDeleteLearning to live is a true gift.. beautifully written
ReplyDeleteI love the voice in this poem 💞 and the idea of bonding against trade and fear. Beautifully rendered.
ReplyDeleteAnxiety and fear are the twins that bind freedom. Break the shackles every day.
ReplyDeleteEven the rain - trapped they are. Makes me want to tell them to grab breakfast on the fly and run out into that rain! Change the routine and grab life!
ReplyDeleteYes, the bond is dissipating...oh that we find it again.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Love Paul's comment. Tactics of keeping people afraid and ineffective seem to work well for the tyrants.
ReplyDeletefor me this conjures images of the gathering before a death - the congregants all carrying their own memories and anxieties, feuds and friendships - its a very human poem Rosemary - some must be still be seeking in their peering out
ReplyDeleteIt IS hard not to become one of those bodies "around the table. and takes even more determination to work at "– really living" Thanks for your insight, well written,,
ReplyDeleteDoom and gloom is being thrown at us from all directions.
ReplyDeleteFight back by refusing to yield to despair.
Sometimes the truth is bleak, but with truth spoken there is opportunity to seek a change.
ReplyDeleteThere is reason for fear!!
ReplyDeleteFear of the unknown and being too comfortable in present situation - always stop from going further.
ReplyDeleteSome days, enough feels like more than enough, but...
ReplyDelete...a way will be found.
Wonderful voice in this. Afraid to keep seeking the Grail but, it seems they will anyway!
ReplyDeleteThere is a skillfully crafted despair in these line, applause!!!
ReplyDelete"Even the rain, throwing them together,
fails to create a bonding against
the world out there, of trade and greed."
much love...
I love it when you wax philosophical. This one says so much about so many things in so few lines (an economy of verbiage, as I like to say). You continue to WOW me!
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you so much!
DeleteI like the angst in this poem, Rosemary, and the way it achieves what the rain cannot.
ReplyDeleteEven the rain..brilliantly crafted...creates such an atmosphere.
ReplyDeleteI like this Rosemary. People pretty loose. It reminds me of my sister's news from Nebraska. The Nursing home in our old home town went bankrupt. Probably it will have to close. In the adjacent town the city owns the nursing home. Of ours though, the employees are staying on, I don't know what kind of a pay arrangement they have made. Most people can't afford to work for nothing.
ReplyDelete..
The little bit about "trade and greed" really stick with me. It's almost too real.
ReplyDeleteThe emptiness from the fake bonding mixed with the fear of the unknown leaves a strong impression.
ReplyDeleteThank you for commenting on my sister's poem. She said she tried commenting back but couldn't. Sorry but she is new at blogging.
ReplyDeleteyour poem is sad, the lives half-lived, a story of many.