There are multiple destinations on offer this time, but I couldn't resist the one which gave me a chance to wax lyrical, so my ticket will be for her third choice of route, for a Bug's Eye Viewof the scenery!
A pallid sky provides a perfect backdrop
for silhouettes of leafless branches. Black
and finely etched, trees' spirits dance
in the shadows of imagination.
Their summer ballgowns have long disappeared
and naked now, their beauty stands unclothed
but no less vivid. They reveal their souls
in ghostly shapes whose underlying promise
of latent rebirth will have until the spring
to gather forces before burgeoning.
The clock ticks.
We have to pick
our moments well
for who can tell
which may be our last?
When grains have passed
through their hour glass until
the very last is about to spill
onto the waiting heap,
then no last-ditch leap
will save us. Time will follow
its course until the last hollow
tock of the clock
will bring life to a stop.
Magpie Tales gave us this ticking time picture of a 'past its sell by date' clock face for this week, which inevitably lead to thoughts of the eleventh hour we will all have to face at some point! Let's hope next week's prompt will be a less decrepit picture, therefore slightly more upbeat in its automatic associations! Nil desperandum, folks!
When I chose to leave my home
and start out on life's road alone,
I knew I'd need some eating tools -
I was not a child of fools!
I had a knife, a dented spoon,
but I could tell that very soon
I'd seriously need a fork
to stab the lamb or beef or pork
bangers in my frying pan -
or juicy peaches from a can.
With worldly goods upon my back
I sauntered on by lonely track,
up rolling hills and grassy down,
until I reached a country town
full of shops and rushing people.
In a church with crumbling steeple
I stopped and said a little prayer.
and took a rest while I was there. 'Dear Lord, a fork is all I need...
I wonder if You're paying heed?'
Then came a voice inside my head;
these were the very words it said:-
The spaces in my day
leave holes in the sky
where tears fall through.
Your thoughts are absent,
and build a fence too high
for me to see beyond.
I grieve for a lost time,
for I do not understand
where it has gone,
nor yet why, but its pearls
remain strung about me.
Headless chickens we may be,
but never without laughter.
Like the chicken and the egg
one has to follows after...
A chicken rushing round and round
in circulatory motion,
is just like us in certain states
when, minus head or notion,
we chase our tails to no effect.
For we are doomed to meet ourselves
back where we had started-
once the circle is complete...
But, do not be downhearted!
Shrug your shoulders, give a laugh,
(He who laughs last, laughs longest!)
and remember this old saw - The devil take the hindmost!
Now, kindly close the door...