i)
tattered
ragged Jets cap
sun and sweat bleached
one can barely make out the team colours
in his hands
a few last remnants
of his wire spool
40 years unwound
project after project
a beautiful metal metaphor
ii)
the sky is grey
pools of water
a hill of dirty snow melts
a few slow tears fall
a deep gut soul lament
sometime tears are prayers
Ollie, how I love your poetry. Seeing through the eyes of the Tired Monk. I really feel this poem, and love "sometimes tears are prayers." Indeed they are. (The Tired Wild Woman knows a lot about tears.) Great to see you at What's Going On, kiddo. Buckle up for 2025.
ReplyDeleteAre you a New York Jets fan perchance?
ReplyDeleteI really can feel the second one...the falling tears.
Wishing you a Happy New Year.
sometimes tears are prayers, indeed. Beautifully put. Wishing you the best in the new year.
ReplyDeleteI like the idea of the projects undertaken through the years unwinding from a spool. Tears as prayers is a good metaphor. I hope sometimes your tears are happy tears in 2025. Suzanne - Wayfaring blog - Wordpress
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautifully constructed and such tender thoughts - Jae
ReplyDeleteSometimes tears are prayers - I truly believe this to be true.
ReplyDeleteI love how the poem closes. So true.
ReplyDeleteBeing a Jets fan has to be hard duty. Where have you gone, Joe Namath?
ReplyDeleteDont be sad Ollie. ,,Good will prevail and what's all this?
ReplyDeletethe sky is grey? Are you sure correct spelling in the King's English is permitted over there?..especially when Trump takes over. ? Next you will be telling me not to be such a pain in the arse instead of ass:)
You bring in the New Year with a couple of classic poems. Deep Gut Soul Lament--brilliant line. Says so much about so many lives.
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