Skip to main content

On The Day When The Day Didn't Come

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #236


On the day when the day didn’t come

The house hared off after the latest suburban renewal

A goddess came riding; no longer did a fence

Prevent the forest or its spirits from knocking

Do you answer in shorts? You don’t.

You dress for the nothing in the silk

Trailing mulberry forests in the dancing breeze

Take yourself to meet the sullen creek

Who never wanted neighbors like you

And it is thirsty for the waters already bottled

On the shelves were the goddesses shop

They throw the plastic behind them

Perhaps believing they worship the roadways

According to the creek, who, it turns out,

Toadless and thin, is relieved to talk to anyone

On the day when the day didn’t come.


-- Chrissa

Comments

  1. LOL, "where" not "were." I need to follow my own advice and read aloud when proofing. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love the contrast of the natural world vs. the careless "goddesses" of the local Trader Joe's. Very neatly done, woman.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Magic poetry .... this totally captured my fancy "You dress for the nothing in the silk, trailing mulberry forests in the dancing breeze" !!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. "Do you answer in shorts? You don’t./ You dress for the nothing in the silk" - Oooh! Great!

    ReplyDelete
  5. A wonderful partnership of images and words... I read this several times. Wonderful :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. "And it is thirsty for the waters already bottled" - I wonder what they will do when there is no water to bottle?

    ReplyDelete
  7. This is one of your finest of poems Chrissa! The imagery and the divide of nature and the cement ruin. I love this my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Point taken and well made, C. The paradoxes/contradictions of our consumerism are so destructive to what's most valuable and essential to us and so self-defeating.

    ReplyDelete
  9. "On the day when the day didn’t come."

    Magical!!!
    Happy Sunday. Thanks for dropping by my blog today.

    Much💛love

    ReplyDelete
  10. Oh, how nature and cement don't mix. Love this poem.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Blue Fields Far Below

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties.  A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles  Someone washed the blue skies and she knows  It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home.  Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom).  -- Chrissa

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

Flagrant

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :)  Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air.  Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2  at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...