I don't need it anymore, the speed or the range.
I've prepped the basement at the back the of my head,
Tossed in beds of remembered turf...
Given it one window that I imagine
Opens onto the best afternoons.
There is the bed and the window and the fan--
We run through 4x6 rectangles pinned to the walls,
Wingless. It sits and stares into the breeze
Generated by spin rather than stride
As more shed prints slap against the walls.
The fan hums. It purrs.
The window is open and the sky is bright.
The bed is soft and the fan is cool.
There are days lining the walls
And I don't need the speed
Anymore.
Posting at both The Sunday Muse (Muse #22) and Poets United (Poetry Pantry # 421--pumpkin patches!!!). Hoping this week finds everyone with a pleasant sufficiency of sun and rain and reading days--fall is here! :)
-- Chrissa
"Tossed in beds of remembered turf..."...so much sadness here...A beautiful poem.
ReplyDeleteI dont need the speed any more. A stroll is just fine. I love that big cat in the picture, finding himself in such a strange place. Love the basement in the back of your head.
ReplyDeleteSometimes the sky can be as bright as it wants.... sorrow has its way of leaving us frozen.
ReplyDeleteI don't need the speed anymore....sometimes we finally get to that place. A good place to be, a stroll rather than a run.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, love the way you went with the photo.
ReplyDeleteAwesome! You set me in motion the instant I started reading.
ReplyDeleteZQ
"We run through 4x6 rectangles pinned to the walls,
ReplyDeleteWingless. It sits and stares into the breeze"
Very interesting write Chrissa.
Happy you dropped bymy sumi-e Sunday today
Much🎶💛🎶
Agreed - sometimes speed is not necessary!
ReplyDeleteI feel that way too. Ne need for speed. I love that the imagined window opens onto the best afternoons and that the photo is PURRfect for the poem.
ReplyDeleteStriking images! I love the way you turn the big cat into such a vivid metaphor.
ReplyDeleteAn imaginative and introspective piece - well constructed - with intriguing lines. 'There are days lining the walls' - my favorite.
ReplyDelete"There are days lining the walls"--and that's when I give up the range and the speed--when the memories are accumulated and on top of my heart.
ReplyDeletei think this is a fine response to the picture prompt. very intriguing. i think this may be about old age, or about captivity, maybe not the one about behind bars, but rather a slip into the rut of mundane life. sometimes i also don't understand how my mind works. :)
ReplyDeleteas i said, interesting poem.
"Tossed in beds of remembered turf"... such longing and deep emotion in this!💜
ReplyDelete"There are days lining the walls." I love that line. You have such a poetic and creative imagination Chrissa! Wisdom and beauty runs here within your words indeed!
ReplyDeleteThis is the best the most vivid ekphrastic poem I have ever read Chrissa - so true to the image. The image itself being so clever too, the fan blowing away the leopards spots.
ReplyDeleteJust love it all!
Anna :o]
Perhaps the speed is really not necessary anymore, lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteA fitting tribute to the art of slowing down!
ReplyDeleteEverybody needs a window that opens onto the best afternoons!
ReplyDelete