Empty Hands
And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun
The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of tine
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime
The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
Yet yearns to know much more.
Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
Your soul is expressed wondrously within this awesome poem. I really enjoyed reading it this evening. Great work,
ReplyDeleteRussell
Linda, It's so nice to hear from someone who seems to have walked down the same road. keep on pondering the tough questions without easy answers and expressed in such a delightful way.. Thanks. Ron Grognet
ReplyDeleteHi Linda! The older we get, the more we tend to think about life and its complexities, something that was not so conspicuous in young age. We ask questions, while deep down we already know most of the answers. Love your poem, especially the concluding stanza. All the best. // paul
ReplyDeleteYour kind of poetry is one of the joyous reasons I enjoy visiting Whispers Lin. This poem is just brilliant! Brava my friend! Blessings and Aloha, Connie
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