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DEBORAH ANN PALMER

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 3/10/2015 |




SYMPATHY IN TEACUPS

Don't Look for sympathy in teacups for there is none to find.  Only the dregs of life's disappointments and deep indignities.

Tea Leaves reading frustration for those seeking absolution.

Teacups shattered become teardrops racing down windowpane faces.

A pool of sorrows gathered at foots edge. Looking beyond the harbor waiting for the lighthouse to come ashore.  Feet take root yielding blossoms at hand.

Musicians tune up. Our Maestro raises his glass in toast. Commence the Chamber music. Tomorrow the Garden Party begins again.  What was broken now needs be made whole.


IN THE DUST OF THIS EARTH
We are Stardust fallen from Heaven.
Returning to Mother Earth to be scattered across the oceans, seas, plains......taken up by the wind once more.  Galaxies. Sand. Soil. Swirling rings around Saturn Whirlpools of Atlantis Solar systems of revolving doors.

In the Dust of this orbital sphere are seeds and spores of generations yet untold. Stories to be written and songs to be sung. Poesy hanging by vineyard climbing ivy searching for fertile ground in which to take root and bloom.  You are the pitter patter of dew arising with great tear droplets falling to moss and leaf covered ground.  Take hold my Luna branches and spring forth from sweet tender Gaia into renewed awakenings.

Foliage covering preternatural forest an ancient womb delivering sustenance to all flora and fauna. You are the scent of a damp summer’s night. She suckles her young with tender shoots Arboreal Splendor to behold. Goddesses arise and walk about restoring the vanquished, quenching all thirsts birthing new lives.

[DEBORAH ANN PALMER]




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