I tell because I cannot show the
crisscross cracks in this stained glass soul; the
flower felled by hobnail boots; the
depth and thrust
of moons.
I show because I cannot tell the
truth of us half so well as the
bloom of us scents my hands
and stands as all the
proof
I need
of God.
55 words for Hedge at Real Toads. Also submitted to Poetry Pantry.
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Sunday, June 1, 2014
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
18 comments:
Amen!
ZQ
Very lovely, and feeling lonely at the same time.
it is the small miracles (of us)
that often go unnoticed
that def show a guiding hand.
Wow. WOW! This is stellar on so many levels.
How often telling is all we can do--and this tells quite a lot in a mere 55. Thanks for playing MZ--thinking about you--hope things get better.
There is definitely a time to tell, and on the other hand there is time to show. You've nailed it.
I love the way the second line sounds, but above all, through all the contrasting images, I love the message that shines for lovers wherever they may be.
WOW! This poem seriously kicks ass. Your opening lines - "the crisscross cracks in this stained glass soul" - are a fantastic hook. Loved it.
Not a game ~~ this one.
Every mode tells a story, but I am glad when friends can touch, sense, smell and therefore show, God. The we can let go of the crunch and broken glass, I'm told ...
I read it twice-I love this poem!
How surely it moves to its conclusion - great!
'crisscross cracks in this stained glass soul' - lovely words, as are all.
Anna :o]
The need to explain the things we cannot put word to.. the magic of what a language cannot say...
Yes this is why humans need a god..
I love that image of the scent of love on the lover's hands and speaking of greater Love.
love your interpretation perfume is heavenly
I feel like anything I might say about this poem would only detract. Pure simple beauty that says it all from the level of human frailty to the absoluteness of God that takes my breath away as I read it.
loving the crisscross cracks in this stained glass soul and those hobnail boots (even if they do fell the flowers).
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