We will never recover the time
Inside as spring bloomed, fall blazed
Roots have grown white, untended
Out of arm’s reach, winter even colder.
Inside as spring bloomed, fall blazed
Casual encounters are fraught, memories a blur
Out of arm’s reach, winter even colder
The hearty stew has lost its flavor.
Casual encounters are fraught, memories a blur
Hope is hidden, joy masked
The hearty stew has lost its flavor
Will our love endure?
Hope is hidden, joy masked
Roots have grown white, untended
Will our love endure?
We will never recover the time.
Nice one, Bonnie. I am especially struck by the metaphor of the stew having lost its flavor. As it often does, your poetry speaks of love and its many ramifications, which is alwasy a timely subject.
Thank you, Manuela. The blandness of taste/days/lost experiences was such a profound part of the last two years fobso many. Thanks for the inspiration and spark!
Also I really enjoyed this particular poem. “Joy masked” and “the stew has lost its flavor” and “casual encounters are fraught” so picturesque of these last couple of years. ~Heather
Thanks, Heather – it’s a challenge for me to come up with something for a topic that the whole world is writing about. For that, I credit the restrictions of form and the gift of a writing partner that day (and remembering to go into the tiny bits of my own experience). Glad some of the imagery worked.
I just listened to a re-airing of a podcast with you by Emma Dhesi. And I followed the link from there to here. The story of your journey into becoming a writer (your interest in the internal motivations of a person and your sabbatical year) has really inspired me to think about my own journey and aspirations to become a writer. Thank you, Bonnie!
It was so much fun to talk with Emma. I’m so impressed with her work, and how she helps so many people think about their own path to authorship and writing. She’s such a gift! Please keep me posted as you continue your own journey, and share with others what you’ve come to experience!
Bonnie