A Shawl, Mine Worn Poem by Susan Lacovara

A Shawl, Mine Worn

Rating: 4.8

A shawl, mine worn,
against the riddle of time
spent in this frozen perilous winter
lending security to what wicked a spell
has been cast, to keep me underground,
unaware if sunlight returns
(so long, her escape)

A shawl, mine worn,
fashionably frozen to the daily doldrums
of creating a crafted contingency plan
how I will weather the wasteful cold
And leap again, with leprechaun giddy
into the dance partner's open arms
of Spring, come soon...

A shawl, mine worn,
armoured in the caressing cotton
soothing and smoothing what cares
none see, as they are mine
sent to this address...
draped round my sometimes rounded shoulders
that I will stand taller in April
To greet the forsythia's flourishing flash
of yellow...and hello....
shedding the shawl, mine worn,
and worn out, by winter's hardened hand
and the hand-me-down dismal gray
that stains a shawl, mine worn.

(02/19/14) waiting from the inside, to go out...patience, patience,
for the promise of Spring...
Sekharan Pookkat 19 February 2014

Slanting height of sun spins around brings winter and spring To say hello to you

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Adeline Foster 17 May 2014

Interesting metaphors depicting the semi-hibernating of winter’s shadowy days. Well done. Read mine – Spring – Adeline

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Chris G. Vaillancourt 08 May 2014

Very good use of words, clear and makes a profound statement

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Karen Sinclair 05 March 2014

Beautifully flowing. I know this so well. At last the daffodils trumpet that spring is on her way. She will lift our hearts as slowly and delicately as she allows us to relish her beauty. Ty

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Lynn Anne Brown 22 February 2014

A fabulous description of how the lengthening days of February and March make us crave for the time when the sun will tempt us to emerge from our sleeping place and engage the the world again when long winter finally comes to and end. A particularly apt piece to have run across as we wish for the end of a winter that came in hard and is reluctant to leave.

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Anthony Burkett 19 February 2014

Speaks to me of a hunger in need to be sated… of a longing in need to be satisfied… with the first of spring’s flower blossoms… I am waiting with you… hungry and imprisoned… a beautiful pen … touché to you dear poet!

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