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Open Poetry #13
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Just another Sunday Morning
| Open Poetry #13 |
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Just another Sunday Morning |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California 
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Just another Sunday Morning (repost) The sky would not turn off the crimson clouds that dotted periwinkle, but the ground denied the moon that still hung onto the early morning light in paper plates of yearning and Styrofoam dance, coupled and tumbling the city woke with curled clothing in doorways cold home and only matted hair looked up to that perfect morning sky. Even the buildings were stretching and clean in the up there away from where windows cold watched and pointed rooftops avoided the earth that planted them. A string of a woman all miss-patched and bouncing sang a hymn so sweet voiced that eyes that didn’t see turned. She was covered with the fog of madness as she swallowed the dollar into the folds of her need and when someone said I’ll pray for you she danced around her body fighting with itself as she sad no, no, no then disappeared into the nameless street where wretchedness lays down and people step over it into just another Sunday. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Martie Odell Ingebretsen - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Very well expressed, Martie. Excellent writing. |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
The sky would not turn off the crimson clouds that dotted periwinkle, but the ground denied the moon that still hung onto the early morning light in paper plates of yearning and Styrofoam dance, coupled and tumbling the city woke with curled clothing in doorways cold home and only matted hair looked up to that perfect morning sky. such images you convey...love it ~Wynter "The worst prison would be a closed heart". |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Hey little one - you're jump starting the weekend and I haven't even started yet....a terrific way to start with this repost....a favorite.... dance, little one...dance.... |
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Lone Wolf Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842Lansing, MI USA |
This one says so much. Funny how life is at times. Nice writing. All writing comes |
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Wilfred Yeats Member Elite
since 2000-08-04
Posts 2704Wilmington, Delaware |
I worked - at times - in neighborhoods - where arrival, lunch exit, or day's end - found me - climbing over street people, bag ladies, rummies I could not ignore I prayed for them - started a collection one pre-xmas day and they were treated to food from McDonalds nearby - where (unhappily) we often saw them scrounging left-overs from the waste bins ssurrounding... Saddest realization came when we discovered - we could not regiment them - anymore than they could regiment us - Thank you |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
With your gift for seeing, no morning is "just another" one, dear lady... your perspective makes them unique and memorable. *S* |
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vandana
since 1999-10-22
Posts 10463USA |
enjoy  |
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Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
I agree with suthern, a morning is like no other seen through your soul's eyes. I for one am thankful you have 20/20 vision. This was wonderful. |
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Nate Dogg Senior Member
since 1999-11-15
Posts 1658Georgia, Fulton |
Lovely story Martie....very nice writing!! Nathan |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
And to think, most of us don't see anything until after our coffee and by then it is too late. Exciting writing. joyce |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Denise--Thanks for always stopping by. Wynter--thanks for lettimg me know you liked the images...I appreciate it. Hi Miss Sunshine...I see some sun in the distance. Lone wolf--Life does say so much...if we listen. Bill--People are just people, no matter what the circumstance. Thanks. Ruth--Thank you for thinking that...how sweet. Vandana--Thank you for reading this. Sharon--Just need glasses to read...thanks for such a nice reply. Nate--Thanks so much for stopping by. Joyce--believe me...I need my coffee too. |
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