
The easiest fix, to let the head drop,
And gaze at dead stretched skin,
Shone to what you call perfection.
Ignore the nagging tick beside your ear.
Time is just expense,
Which you think you can afford.
Yet you forget,
you are resting on fragile stuff.
These sticks cut from hearts not yet fully grown.
Each unfolding wresting loose the bolts
you thought would hold for life.
Dust your hands with splinters.
Linking to the Sunday Muse Blogspot and one of Fireblossom’s photo prompts. (http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/).
“Dust your hands with splinters”…great metaphor. I think I’ve done that a few times!
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Oh Marion, that last stanza is truly amazing.
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Thank you so much Carrie. π
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It all catches up, doesn’t it?
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In the end.
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Grim but…wow. Just stunning.
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Thank you wyndolynne π
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Oh those splinters do hurt, but your writing about them makes for a good read.
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Thank you Myrna π
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Intricate and wise, “later” can only keep one going for so long. So well-done, Marion.
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Thank you so much Lisa. π
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‘Time is just expense, Which you think you can afford.’ A stunning line in a well penned poem! Cheers.
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Thank you Helen βΊοΈ
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I too like the line Helen pointed out. Time is an asset that I don’t think many of us have enough of.
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Absolutely. Thank you Truedessa.
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Time vs. Heart Splinters. Both expendable assets, which will run out first?
..
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That picture has an abandonment to it which you have captured, yet also the sense of being posed for effect, which you also show us in your beautifully structured and measured piece. So often what we think is perfection is just the stretched skin of something we’ve killed, a trophy that is meaningless and empty at the heart. Or so I read. Killer last line, and fine poem.
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Thank you Joy. Yes, you’ve read it as I intended. π
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Stellar last line on this excellent portrait.
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Thank you PPP βΊοΈ
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