Bluebells
By onemorething
- 1898 reads
Bluebells are so fleeting -
a river cut through shade
that runs dry
before the end of May.
They show an understorey
the colours of a sky,
sweet, wind-washed,
assuage
in chimes of violet dusk,
only to tear it away.
How they nod
their yes, yes, yes
of purple reassurance
in the absence of light.
Hope is dreadful,
is the death of yesterdays
poured into the promise
of tomorrows:
I hope, I hope, I hope.
Hope has tested
the nerve endings of my solitude
to the ache of doubt.
Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pryor%27s_Wood_Bluebells_2017-04-22-2.jpg
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Comments
The "nerve endings of your
The "nerve endings of your solitude" serves those bluebells so well in this wonderful tribute (I have a friend in Texas who just raves about bluebonnets. It's a running gag that he is corrected from bluebonnets to bluebells. Of course, they are very different) :)
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Especially the last couple of
Especially the last couple of lines - beautifully done, thank you onemore
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that is gorgeous. Agree with
that is gorgeous. Agree with Insert, the beauty and transience of hope turning to the ache of doubt. Brilliant. Again you make sadness seem special even as it hurts
I went to look at our bluebells yesterday, I think it has been too dry as they're not doing their thing yet. As you say, they need darkness to glow - I LOVE " purple reassurance"
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This is our Poem of the Week
This is our Poem of the Week - congratulations! It's also our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day
Please share/retweet if you enjoyed it as much as I did
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Wonderful poem. Some stunning
Wonderful poem. Some stunning turns of phrase here.
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bluebells are very watery
bluebells are very watery when you strim them. The green folliage and sky blue are a heavenly mix.
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