on hangers of different sizes i place the wet clothes now free of stain..
my task set, i survey the skies praying there'll be no rain...
i'm just a bit worried to leave behind helpless all the white
yet, i can only wish every dust and hurt will fade against the light.
fearing i've become too aged and weak to wash so much load
with most of my strength being drained by the heat on the road..
but i have to fill the clothesline as there's no one else
to take care of the soiled graying linen in this garden of yellow bells.
maybe i've become too afraid for something so burning hard
like laying down everything for just one crumpled card.
so, i am leaving quietly - no drama, no sound..
back to where my heart has always found its fertile ground.
love then is sometimes going away to somewhere else and find
a backyard with more sun … and drying breeze of a gentler kind
where sacrifices are better embraced by words and not just the mind...
and dirty garments turn into magical paintings intertwined.
The poem is not straightforward as I think most of mine are, though they may be GOOFY and LIES sometimes, mostly for humor's sake.
The metaphors used is mesmerising. I think, it is more apt to say that the entire poem is a metaphor. Loved reading.
When we grow older, it becomes imperative to clean the slate which is cluttered the smears of the past, and move on on a clean wicket. Good poem with nearly flawless rhyme scheme.
I like: ' where my heart has always found its fertile ground.' and... I like: 'mind... and dirty garments turn into magical paintings intertwined.' Nice rhyming. Overall I'll rate poem 4; I rarely vote. bri : )
I wonder if 'crumpled card' is a reference to a card game where money bets are made.
Yes it is Bri... it refers to things that have really no more worth to me but i still sacrifice for.. like a kin who continually hurts me.
I rarely think I use symbolism. That is my preference, but I think you make your feeings in general clear: that some tasks are left up to us to perform which may not be welcome or successful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lines 7 & 8 'else'/'bells' nice try for a rhyme, but sometimes I think a non-rhyme works better, esp. if it makes sense in light of the rest of poem.