Sunday, March 5, 2017

The Sky At Fourteen



standing, with knees dimpled,
she watches the sky turn.
its colors, impermanent;

yellows and browns
fill her mouth
as the sky staples itself to her tongue
and whispers into her ears,
silken threads, lay down its symbols.

in the distance,
clouds rob the horizon of trees,
pocket them
into snow's cotton,

the remainder, are but
chess pieces on a board
yet to be played.
when the rains come.

silent,
she feels tiny lacerations
in the corners below her eyes
where cardboard cheeks
can catch the tears that fall.

Audrey Howitt copyright/all rights reserved 2017

Posted for Poets United Pantry


20 comments:

  1. I like how "clouds rob the horizon of trees" and pocket them and how her face is just part of the scene.

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  2. You draw such vivid images. My favorite is in the last stanza, I see the tears falling just to be absorbed by parched skin.

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  3. chess pieces yet to be played -- I can visualize this so very well.

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  4. Excellent weaving of textures throughout this piece, Audrey. Splendid!

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  6. Amazing where the mind drifts to escape. Well composed

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  7. Such beautiful descriptions, and I can see her, fourteen, with all of life before her. Sigh. This pings at my heart. (for now, I have heard her sing! Smiles.)

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  8. Excellent! Loved the way you have written this poem.

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  9. Beautiful capture, Audrey. I often look at young ones (particularly those who have arrived at a transition into a new passage) and think ~ wistfully ~ of all that lies ahead for them. Some of it good, some of it wonderful, and alas, some of it very, very tough. Such is life.

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  10. This has such a painful sense of utter loneliness... it's not easy growing up...

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  11. Clouds rob the horizon of trees... wonderful.

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  12. silent,
    she feels tiny lacerations
    in the corners below her eyes
    where cardboard cheeks
    can catch the tears that fall.

    Beautifully eloquent, Audrey!

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  13. Beautifully described. I wouldn't want to be 14 again!

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  14. Wow!!

    "in the distance,
    clouds rob the horizon of trees,
    pocket them
    into snow's cotton,"

    my favourite lines

    Thank you for dropping in atmy Sunday Standard this week

    much love...

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  15. Such beautiful descriptions, and I can see her, fourteen, with all of life before her. Sigh. This pings at my heart.

    ตารางคะแนนพรีเมียร์ลีก

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