She felt her body with blind fingers…. …. feeling the hard curves and shriveled bones of an old woman –
When did she get old? Crone-like… crow-like…. desiccated feathers dried to leather;
Skin akin to the family Book of Life… So many stories among us… yet so many untold chapters Skeletons in the closet, lips sealed forever against unshared secrets…
She felt hervbody with blind fingers. …. Self-examination before ‘selfies’ became a zen-ful form of self – evaluation. …
The years between then and now had left their marks, for good or bad shriveled bones and all she was older then she ‘d ever been – but she is still the she she’s always been just Crone-like… crow-like…. desiccated feathers dried to leather … a tomb of stories wanting to be told… before She fades into the Lands of the Remembered or Forgotten. * Sharonlee Goodhand Imageweaver 2021
D’verse Choose one of your OWN favorite poems and flip it. Please include your original poem along with your flipped poem; *
Spit it Out
Spit Life out, hack it up off the back of your tongue repell the overwhelming intrusion of moments ugly and mundane you won’t find compassion in the streets among the grime and dirty minds and hurrying feet souls are lost forever out there, never reborn again.
Spit life out on the fetid breeze, no flavours to savour amid mountains of man-made debris seasons hide a multitude of sins, no one wins, when Life is a funeral dirge written with the tears of the lost and engraved on the soul of the Earth. * Sharonlee Goodhand Imageweaver
My Original- In the light of personal epiphany each soul will find comfort in their night.
Taste life on the tip of your tongue savour subtle remnants of each moment find beauty at the bus stop compassion in the street all the textures, traces and intoxicating touches, sensations & impressions of wandering feet loves found and lost and reborn