Moon in Periwinkle


 

That golden’d moon
and her
then a child
held eternity’s promise
in share

colorful pails on the ocean’s beach
festooned in starfish and octopus

jelly and jam
on crustless bread

amber-gold campfire’s
‘neath a silvery canopy
of forever stars

and s’mores
scrumptious s’mores

lipstick
smeared on a giddy grin
the world of dress up
and pretend
so eager to grow up

the strum of imagination
that brings song
to the young heart

the thrill of dance
that moves a child’s feet
like god’s marionette

that drives away
the limp of sorrow

but now
summer’s gone
carried off by time

robbed is the color
from the day

as she walks
she remembers
the reds
oranges
blues
the violets and periwinkles
so as never to forget

ever keeping hope
that the joy will return
to massage the rigid cold
to warmth again

the sun
to re-torch the heavens
re-fire life’s hues

as a child
she first saw the gray descend

the twisted labyrinth

the mesmerizing maze

the gapes
and gaps

the lever of lies
that loose the holds
that confined the fear
and pain

she felt the slippage
the hole in the universe
the backward motion
the clickity clack

as all things gentle
got sucked in
blown away

gray had overcome the landscape
gray was in the house
gray was at the dining table
black waited in the chamber

when no one sober
roamed those rooms

and no one safe
was she
that child

balancing precariously
on fate’s highwire

when wrong things burned
bitter as paregoric

the way jugged
johnny walker whiskey
burns the throat

that burned that skin
like bare knee
on rough rug

like pumice
on raw flesh

that winter’d touch
that chilled her heart

when laughter bowed out
and lies and hurt
bowed in

like the poison
in a lizard’s wattle

when denied was that promise
of violet and periwinkle
oranges
blues
reds

only gray

with black always waiting
at the fringe
with a talon’s piercing sting
silent and swift
as wing’ed night

and the startled bruise
that began the tome
of her life as a child

innocence disappeared
like smoke up a charred chimney

her child’s smile
now safely stowed away

kept protected
for a new time
of that moon
and that promise

and now she walks
a young woman
on a starry’d night

wandering back
towards that golden’d moon

curious as a child
and hopeful

wondering
if the periwinkle
might someday return

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 



18 thoughts on “Moon in Periwinkle”

      1. OK, never mind, we’ll just keep on deleting your second posts when you forget – meaning no disrespect either, but because we can’t favour you over everyone else.
        It would be lovely if you could link your poems one at a time so we wouldn’t have to miss out on some – but we understand that you probably have so many we’d have to miss out on some in any case.

        1. My old tired brain forgets the details of participation sometimes, and with my eyesight, scanning the sites to remind myself is not always easy. I write and write all day, most everyday, to keep the mind oiled, and many of them never get through final edits for me to publicly publish on my Image & Verse site — but far more do, than I could post to the several sites in which I participate, and remain under the limits quantifications. I try to sort through and find pieces that fit the prompts, or write a brand new original piece when I am so inspired. Pecking at my keyboard all day helps me keep my crooked arthritic pointy finger on my right hand nimble enough to continue to operate the keyboard on my old iPad. My eyesight is diminishing, and my eyes tire frequently — so I write in spurts all day, because I can’t stop, I’d go crazy. My friends think I already am. If so, it’s a pleasant kind of madness. It’s not as easy anymore to visit and read all the work from the other poets, but I do, to the degree I am capable, because other’s work I find stimulates my imagination — and offers inspiration in my own writing… and at times, gob smacks me.

  1. What a beautiful poem this is – the description of childhood, so magical, until sad things happen. Beautifully told, Rob. As a woman, hopefully she will rediscover that magic through her own children’s childhoods.

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