Skip to main content

It Used To Be Perfection

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #214. This week it's poetry for the heat, no longer nascent, of oncoming summer.


Every hour another warning vibrates my wrist.
I lean toward the label beside the picture.
The city is no longer metaphorically burning.
I can feel the tiles, cool in the a/c and thick walls,
through these thin sandal soles. 
I move the to next image. It's full of rust.
The label says it captures the riot of a city.
This city isn't rioting. It's a beautiful, sunny day.
A burning, sunny day. 

Greetings and salutations! This weekend begins our summer hibernation. We're cleaning up a few rooms so that the dogs & James & I can have a cool spot in the house, away from the machines and windows, to curl up when necessary. I'm binging Halloween content, as well.  

-- chrissa

Comments

  1. Carrie BurttJune 11, 2022 at 8:32 PM

    Oh the saying a beautiful "sunny day" is loosing it's shine for me too. That heat has been brutal! I hope you craft a lovely space to cool off, read and write my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gillena CoxJune 12, 2022 at 4:12 AM

    The heat seep through from your poem. However the rains we are getting these days here in T&T🇹🇹 will cool the heat

    Happy Sunday
    Much❤love

    ReplyDelete
  3. Susie ClevengerJune 13, 2022 at 4:03 PM

    I feel the summer heat in this poem. What a creative description. Stay cool!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Marion HortonJune 14, 2022 at 12:01 AM

    You have captured summer heat so well, Chrissa. I think I need a cool drink now!
    (I think you may have transposed a couple of words in line 6 - hope you don't mind me saying. )

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. C. SandlinJune 14, 2022 at 11:23 AM

      LOL, this is what I get for not reading it back, out loud. Thanks!

      Delete
  5. HelenJune 14, 2022 at 8:21 AM

    I can feel your heat, Chrissa! Well done ....

    ReplyDelete
  6. kaykualaJune 14, 2022 at 10:58 PM

    You've a perfect remedy for the impending summer heat, a cozy corner! Yes, why not, Chrissa!

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  7. Sunra RainzJune 15, 2022 at 9:18 AM

    Really enjoyed your interpretation of this image. Though it had me in mind of the quickening of climate change with a sort of hidden feeling of doom. Great write :-)

    ReplyDelete
  8. purplepeninportland.comJune 17, 2022 at 5:19 PM

    I feel the heat!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

On Bad Days

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186 . Sorry. Probably best to skip this one. On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty; I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore it obsesses to possess mass, to be something arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall deeper and deeper into time until they  drag everything into the void and are empty, wrung out of needing to have an argument and then we look at each other, deep in the black fallen forever of our gaze.  I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!...
12 comments
Read more

Fearsome by Survival

  Sharing today with T he Sunday Muse #189 , where Shay is hosting. Come and read and share a piece! On a web-white, wool-quiet morning I found the girl our stories gave us The one who survived She wore the meadow, carded and sewn Long since burned for field Still, she knew me Her stories named me fierce, feral She might have feared  The one who devours Neither of us spoke, patient at morning Breath, warmth, silence Innocent of power We know the stories kill us both We know that we become Fearsome by survival Hello and welcome. It's 67 degrees outside this morning and a warm December weekend might seem like the kind of thing that would prevent me from following through on a plan to hibernate with a good book for the rest of the weekend...but it's the doomscrolling that's run down the charge on my phone that's preventing me from doing that. Also, I may have developed an intolerance to long stretches of quiet during the past year and a half.  Anyway. Looking forward to r...
16 comments
Read more