Widow’s black blows through this glen.
It’s a shadow cast
by unbearable loss of fractured hearts.
It’s a brittle wind
that pierces an icy fevered breeze,
and straddles those weak of joy.
Widow’s black teases reason
into willowy tangles, and rustles
and tugs at skirts.
It dries tears to sheaths of crusty gems
that glint in morning’s
taught-strung light. Widow’s black sings sweet
calliope songs
that explode in soft sheaths of dark
bewilderment, and no charms or enthralled
beguilements, nor slip-stitchery mending
can restore true love lost
and protect a woman from the colour black.
.
.
.
.
Written for Sunday Whirl Wordle #77
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/wordle-77/
(words include: charm, willows, crust, rustle, unbearable, explode mending, fever, brittle, breeze, piercing, sheaths)
Ooooooo. All of it!
Especially this:
“It’s a brittle wind
that pierces an icy fevered breeze,
and straddles those weak of joy.”
Oooooooo. You’re fast off the mark, my inky friend! I’m glad you like this one; it gave me a blooming headache in the process.
“soft shealths”
Was that a slip of the fingers? Perhaps you mean “soft sheaths”?
At any rate, you’ve given us a grim picture of true love lost, unable to be put back together by (an exquisite phrase!) “slip-stitchery mending.”
Whirling with Wendell Berry
Thank you so very much! Typo fixed. I’m off to reads yours now.
Wow, you really penned a good one Misk! All your headache payed off! I admittedly had a headache with this one as well. Got stuck on a few words.
Hi Benjamin, and thanks for reading and leaving a comment on this one. I’m pleased that you like it. As for this headache, I’ve had it a few days now, and I’m darned bored with it already.
Beautiful. Yes, one or the other usually ends up wearing black. ‘Widows black’ makes it sound even more dramatic than it already is though.
This is wonderfully atmospheric. I like how your poem goes full circle, begins and ends with black and carries the darkness throughout!
Thank you, Mary!
Oh, this reminds me of two things. The first of Queen Elizabeth, who after her beloved passed, wore black for the rest of her life. And also of those European elders, whose husband departed first and they too wore black allowing no color to shade their emotions.
We allow our imagination free reign with the wordles and so they go!
Thanks for your visit.
Are you thinking of Queen Victoria?
Like how that phrase dominates both the poem and the nature within its lines. Amazing how custom changes only slowly and love lost is translated to a color that absorbs all others.
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/one-day-road-trip/
‘Widows’ Black’……the phrase takes us back to an earlier time, but it is no less apt for now.
Another powerful piece. Black.
Thanks, c.
A very stunning write, Misky. Some wonderful phrasing as well.
Pamela
Thank you, Pamela.
May I be brave enough to celebrate my man’s life in living color, should he pass before me. This is gorgeous, Misky, if not shrouded in sadness. Black, the outward expression of grief.
I’d like to think I’d be brave enough to do the same, Brenda. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
I like the phrase and image juxtaposition in “ice fevered breeze.” The poem is full of interesting images.
mmm…the repetition is what got me with this one – ‘Widow’s black’ is a great phrase to use as a device!
“sweet calliope songs” – I love this; it’s such a neat juxtaposition within all the blackness … a really cool poem Misk – and I agree, the repetition is wonderful
http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2012/10/please-keep-your-seat-belt-fastened-at_8.html
Thank you so very much!
Misky!! This is wonderful!! I just love how your topic keeps persisting with the dark, heavy feeling throughout and your ending is just stunning from “no charms…” on…I love your ending!!
Thank you very much, Hannah!