Skip to main content

The Last

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #259.


I'm the last of the fairy band 
all our tricks given away 
I follow wings and a sticky strand
above the storm and day

Farewell is a nightly tune
this became goodbye
An elegy trilled to carnival beat
stained blue as the sky

Strong as the scent of  popcorn
May cola hold you fast
The rope grows thin, the music faint
Of the fairies, I'm the last.

I am sad that this will be the penultimate poem I share with The Sunday Muse, which has been constant while I've been an irregular participant. Thank you, Carrie, for giving us this space each week! 

It's been a privilege to be able to read what has been a chapbook, generated every week, by a committed and talented group of poets, several of whose books are now part of my library. Please drop a link or title below if you'll have something coming out (or that is already out).

Best wishes to everyone (I'll hopefully be back next week but I'll be more emotional then...) and happy Mother's Day!

-- chrissa  


Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornMay 13, 2023 at 7:43 AM

    I feel these lines deeper than you know my friend! This sings of so many places in my life I have bid farewell and carried the memory with me. Thank you for being a part of the journey Chrissa and for your continued gift of beautiful poetry! I love your idea of having people share their published works. Wishing you a happy Mother's Day as well my friend! I hope that the author fair today is all you hoped for and more!

    ReplyDelete
  2. HelenMay 13, 2023 at 7:53 AM

    You penned the perfect farewell poem for Sunday's Muse!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sherry Blue SkyMay 13, 2023 at 9:35 AM

    Chrissa, this is just beautiful. I have loved the group of people at The Muse - many of us have been writing together for so long. Thank you for your contributions. I adore this poem!

    ReplyDelete
  4. FireblossomMay 13, 2023 at 12:43 PM

    I always enjoy visiting the fairyland, knowing you'll be in it with your poems.

    ReplyDelete
  5. JimMay 13, 2023 at 7:04 PM

    And the fairy is fading away. Sad ending but good if the 'fairy' is Sunday Muse. As usual on these, you have a nice rhyme.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  6. Gillena CoxMay 14, 2023 at 5:20 AM

    A lovely goodbye poem.
    Happy Sunday. Thanks for dropping by my blog.

    Much💖love

    ReplyDelete
  7. robkistnerMay 14, 2023 at 11:13 AM

    This is wonderful Chrissa.
    I share your sense of loss regarding The Sunday Muse, Carrie has done a wonderful job. I understand, and did not realize, you were apparently part of the founding energy, so thank you my friend. I know of no other site offering visual prompts for poetry, so I will just have to begin the search. I started online with poetry back in the days when Dana Guthrie‘s, now Dana Guthrie Martin, first begin her prompt site with her partner. Dana then kept that site going with Poetry Thursday, which then morphed into Read Write Poem. I then began my Writers Island prompt site, when Dana folded up shop at RWP. Shortly after that, Brian Miller and Claudia Schoenfeld opened their prompt site, which now continues today as dVerse Poetry Pub, with Björn and his group keeping back alive. also opened a second poetry prompt site. publishing what I called Matinée Muse, using movie titles as prompts. I have watched four or five other pump plates, open and close over the years, all of those since morphing in there, the site that morphed into Poets and Storytellers still continues, although at a lower level of publishing energy. It understand what damned hard work it is to keep publishing, so I have been most grateful for Carrie’s wonderful site. At 76, my multiple heart attacks that is now Congestive Heart Failure, forced me to eventually shut down both of those prompt sites I published. I so I’ve been doing this nearly 20 years. The two best sites ever for visual prompts were Tess Kincaid’s Magpie tales, and Carrie’s, The Sunday Muse . So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I will find another. If you know of one, please drop me a line I’d appreciate it. Thank you Chrissa.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. robkistnerMay 14, 2023 at 11:22 AM

      Prompt sites not pump plates — sorry. I have to use Siri to write because my arthritis makes typing difficult, so I get some strange typos.

      Delete
  8. kaykualaMay 14, 2023 at 3:58 PM

    A fitting farewell to a job well done, Chrissa. Always looked forward to the Muse! Thanks for being a wonderful co-host, Ma'am!

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  9. Keith's RamblingsMay 15, 2023 at 6:18 AM

    A perfect piece with which to bid goodbye.

    ReplyDelete
  10. TruedessaMay 17, 2023 at 5:39 PM

    The image seems appropriate for a farewell message Thank you for making the muse a happy place.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Turn Away

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the  pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm.  Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story.  Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in...
15 comments
Read more

By the Roadside

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #260  with much appreciation to Carrie & Shay & everyone. Just a reminder: if you have a poetry book, please drop a title in the comments. My TBR won't thank you, but I will. :)    I drive by the armadillos, dead where they fell. Sunlight is so heavy it folds into damp shimmers. All the roads are widening, dispersing the ditches, Grinding out parking lots, killing slow steps. I speed up; crisp winter in the passenger seat. We will arrive at the store soon; I will drag her Chill, into the store. Breathe for both of us. Brightness distorts the lots, now grown gigantic. Roads need blood, the state needs the kills. We will make it through barriers if we wear them: Dead armadillos, caliche dust, gunmetal sunshine.
8 comments
Read more

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
6 comments
Read more