Poem -
We were thrown into the cauldron
(picture is a part of a handspun, knitted pullover by my wife)
we were thrown into the cauldron
words whispered to the wind
make us dance and dance anew
spiringĀ Ā Ā inspired
(while all the while,
Ā the walls are tumbling in the wind,
Ā all the while
Ā wind is whirling in our world)
we dance
we dance on the waters
we dance the waters into our own
we own our dance
our stance
(and still the walls tumble on
Ā into the wide spaces
Ā the dance is giving us)
spindle, spindle, turn and turn
turn the wool that was
into the thread that is
nomore wall
nothing but the new dance
we weave whispers to that wind,
sounds that shape
the dance into coropreal life
under a new sun
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Comments
My Mother loved knitting jerseys for us back in the day. The Good Old Days. š©µ
Lovely write John... reading it made me feel light and free x
Beautiful metaphor, John.Ā
Stay well my friend. Danceā¦and dance more. Ā Ā
BernadeteĀ
Hanx, we've been dancing for 37 years now, the wife and me, I don't see us stoppingš¤£
When you stop dancing, you stop living. Great poetry John.Ā
Hanx, the imagery was inspired by the Celtic cauldron of life, when the wife and I met back in 1986 (studying English Literature at the University of Amsterdam) we were both in a bad state. Since then it took us most of 35 years to dance ourselves to lifeš
āāā
Great writing!
Immersed in the music John, enjoyed mate!
Aye, life tends to immerse one, akways in all ways (dance being my major metaphor for life), alas the tune far too often has been a funeral dirge instead of a hearty double jigš±šš¤š¤£ Hang in there, mate