...quiet, about a lot of things...
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Cold as a Witches Tit for poetry thursday
So, PT this week wants cliches. The title of the post just leaped at me as I left work today. Arctic frickin blast. Why did I leave California???
I'm betting all creative juice is frozen in my peripheral capillaries, but I'll make an attempt at a thaw.
Tales Told
Once, I was
a little girl.
A mother
superior
wore a habit
of stiff
and flawless
black.
With a halo
of white
like wings
from her
cheeks
and beads
surrounding
a crucifix
swaying as it
brushed where
her hips
or legs could be.
"When God closes a door
He opens a window."
Visioning so many doves
bursting free from
glass white panes,
I believed.
He will open a window.
Many prayers later
as that door
slammed shut,
I was prepared
to feel the rush
of wings.
There I waited,
for days,
until at last,
I smashed
the glass
myself.
wlf 7:32
Go to Poetry Thursday to read some more.
I'm betting all creative juice is frozen in my peripheral capillaries, but I'll make an attempt at a thaw.
Tales Told
Once, I was
a little girl.
A mother
superior
wore a habit
of stiff
and flawless
black.
With a halo
of white
like wings
from her
cheeks
and beads
surrounding
a crucifix
swaying as it
brushed where
her hips
or legs could be.
"When God closes a door
He opens a window."
Visioning so many doves
bursting free from
glass white panes,
I believed.
He will open a window.
Many prayers later
as that door
slammed shut,
I was prepared
to feel the rush
of wings.
There I waited,
for days,
until at last,
I smashed
the glass
myself.
wlf 7:32
Go to Poetry Thursday to read some more.
Labels: Poetry Thursday
10 Comments:
Good story telling makes good poetry, nice job.
"There I waited, for days,before at last, I smashed the glass myself." This gave me goosebumps. I recognize the feeling.
Oh, this brings back memories- I always wondered if they had legs, too...
Wonderful...
...and discovered it was you, all along, behind the glass, that YOU were the one with wings....
I posted a quote today from CHristopher Fry...about these "fabulous wings, unused, folded in the heart." I know that yours are unfolded. Or unfolding....
PS Cold as a witch's tit! That's the way I always heard it. Dana's post said: Cold as a witch's heart. Hm. I like tit better, tho'. It must be a western, MOUNTAIN thing.
Snowed here again yesterday, so you'll probably see it today or tomorrow...again. C-O-L-D, too!
I'm in CA and it's 20 degrees "colder than a witch's tit." LOL Nice job!
Simply fabulous poem - I especially like the ending, when she took control of her own destiny.
i like this,
i like this,
i like this.
it resonates within me.
Great poem, with a fabulous ending.
This is powerful. The images, the actions. Your inspiration most certainly thawed out.
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