A seeker; practicing tasseography, seeing if overpriced leaves align asymmetrically, or criss-cross possessively, does that mean certain fate to you, too?
Sip by sip, steaming liquid kisses overripe lips, yet languid waters fail to fully brew; a sign of a stymied system, too much pressure getting lost in curved copper, once beautiful, now crimped tightly in overuse?
Did you find a rock crystal for scrying, haunting an answer beyond sinister’s laugh; fortune had blessed these steps for years, albeit no money, but alas, no fears; now her blank check comes written for zero sum; a game gone by chance, no one ever won.
What became of yesterdays coffee grounds; seeping deep into tomorrows red roses building to bloom; we drank the past, tossed it down, never questioning their impending beauty.
Wait within this garden, a menagerie of animal minds roaming hungrily, searching for that one drop left behind, the white hare in the moon.
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dVerse is open for business, offering its own white hare in the moon. (in folklore white hare in the moon, symbolic making the elixir of immortality…think fountain of youth) Get your fill, travel about the joint, then post a link so we may know what your poem is all about. As for this one, written after reading a sidebar article from Lapham’s Quarterly regarding the future.
Pat Hatt
/ 2011/10/12Wow you invoked such imagery with this piece, in each and every line. The white hare in the moon really was a great finishing touch, liked sinister’s laugh too, just a great piece overall.
David King
/ 2011/10/12This ticks all the boxes for me. A superb piece of writing.
brian miller
/ 2011/10/12an interesting write today…it just kinda spills across the page like those coffee grounds into the flower bed to grow roses…top notch on the imagery and the flow of this piece…
hedgewitch
/ 2011/10/12That penultimate stanza(that seems to offer an answer to the final one) is absolute perfection–”we drank the past, tossed it down, never questioning their impending beauty…” –really got me with that one, but the whole poem with its reach for the unseeable, tea leaves in the wind, white hare in the moon, really appealed to my hedgewitchy nature. Amazing what inspires us, apparently even reading a sidebar can open a door.
Brendan
/ 2011/10/12Just what is the missing link in this failed love letter? Why won’t the tea leaves add up, or fully brew? It’s a mystery even to Mystery; or the seeker’s mystery-tools aren’t strong enough or well enough calibrated to find out. All one can do is hope that the smarter “animal mind” will eventually sniff out the white hare. The latent frustration in this is palpable, the end a question mark. Good work, friend… Brendan
Mark Kerstetter
/ 2011/10/12So strange, “seeping” or “leaching” have appeared in a good half dozen of the poems linked up this week. There’s a feeling of the uncanny about that, but like the white hare, I can’t catch it.
I agree with the other comments – your language is superb, and beautiful. One is struck by the failure of human contrivance, yet the beauty of the poem, with that gentle “wait” in the last lines, seems to invoke the better part of ourselves. Maybe the hare, like the deepest part of our souls, always escapes our grasp?
Beautiful beautiful writing.
ayala
/ 2011/10/12Beautiful and thought provoking.
kateshrewsday
/ 2011/10/12Wonderful….
Sarah Johnston
/ 2011/10/12such great images you bring forth and what a wonderful piece well penned and enjoyed so much
http://gatelesspassage.com/2011/10/11/the-day-of-the-dead/#comment-1682
claudia
/ 2011/10/12the fountain of youth…cool…love the yesterdays coffee grounds; seeping deep into tomorrows red roses building to bloom…my mom always puts her coffee grounds into her plants..and it works fine…if it would only work with life and relationships as well… great rhythm and rhymes here angie…would love to hear it read
The Orange Tree
/ 2011/10/13beautiful.
some homely imagery, well done.
siubhan
/ 2011/10/13I agree with Brendan that there is an air of mystery here, a “seeker” poem to be sure. I love the beautiful melancholy of that next-to-last verse, and the haunting injunction at the end, leaving the reader wanting.