Posted on by Sven Ash Green · 1 Comment

Wooden Spools

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Mending

Here are old things:
Fraying edges,
Ravelling threads;
And here are scraps of new goods,
Needles and thread,
An expectant thimble,
A pair of silver-toothed scissors.
Thimble on a finger,
New thread through an eye;
Needle, do not linger,
Hurry as you ply.
If you ever would be through
Hurry, scurry, fly!
Here are patches,
Felled edges,
Darned threads,
Strengthening old utility,
Pending the coming of the new.
Yes, I have been mending …
But also,
I have been enacting
A little travesty on life.

~ a poem by Hazel Hall

Posted on by Sven Ash Green

April is Poetry Month

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The Heraclitus Door

I found a free-standing door in the woods.

Of course I went through!

On the other side you weren’t

any less absent, and yet

panic like a paper lantern

launched from my chest.

I turned, snatched the handle,

found it locked.

I knocked and I knocked;

the past would not let me back in.

 ~ Todd Dillard