Alice combs her hair
She sweeps the fringe over tired eyes
We are swirling up a storm
Mixing up dust in the cauldron of hate
The power struggle sighs through the bones of the flat
We miss yesterday
We miss clear
All the world is a mystery
A book we were meant to read
A star we were meant to catch
To live is to endure
We brood over that thought day and night
Alice combs her hair
She sweeps the fringe over tired eyes.
The world is indeed a mystery watching as we mix dust in the cauldron of hate!
ReplyDeleteLet's hope the good ones win in that power struggle Jae and then Alice and you can hop on that star so all your dreams may come true.
ReplyDeleteBut we have to move on
ReplyDeleteLove the brackets around this poem as first line meets last and a sort of security is reached in the enduring.
ReplyDeleteI feel the yearning in this poem, Jae. Sometimes the world is a mystery indeed.
ReplyDeleteThe cauldron of hate is a powerful vessel. So far, it has remained unbroken. Maybe someday someone will be able to break it. Until then, it continues to fill with the dust and ashes of our lives.
ReplyDeleteAll the world is a mystery
ReplyDeleteA book we were meant to read
A star we were meant to catch
So I'm told, yet that star seems far away, and the book never seems to end. Yet we can't stay static either.
I love the world is a mystery, a book we were meant to read.
ReplyDeleteI really feel the pressure of the world here... maybe a sense of being inside a prison.
ReplyDeleteThis seems to speak of the sometimes humdrum of day after uneventful day. Life is the mystery we were meant to read ... and to write and rewrite!
ReplyDeleteI can see Alice's tired eyes. "Mixing up dust in the cauldron of hate.......we miss clear." I hear that. I love "a star we were meant to catch." One can always reclaim clear and reach for that star, my friend.
ReplyDeleteToni Spencer has left a new comment on your post "Fringe":
ReplyDeleteThat cauldron of hate, slowly simmering....
The yearning to want do something, the frustration of still doing nothing.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many things I miss. But I realize after reading your poem, I miss clear the most.
ReplyDeleteAll the world is a mystery...
ReplyDeleteMost of the time, this crosses my mind. Especially with the actions of hatred and suffering going on. Great write!
It is exhausting, this cauldron of hate we live in--
ReplyDeletePerhaps, those fringe bangs, help shield our vision to ease some inner pain we wish to not see or feel.
ReplyDeleteAwesome writing. Tight and impactful. 'We are swirling up a storm Mixing up dust in the cauldron of hate' - a stunningly visual - and layered - image/metaphor. Loved it!
ReplyDelete"Mixing up dust in the cauldron of hate" Love Fantastic write
ReplyDeleteThank you all for your lovely comments
ReplyDeleteIf you ever decide to re-visit each of those (your) powerful lines and describe them into meanings, that is coherent (for and understanding) to a universal audience, you would blow us all away. I've been transcribing some of my poems into prose and end them with a short piece of poetry.
ReplyDeleteYou seem to be a prime candidate... with your style and creativity.
ZQ
"We miss yesterday"
ReplyDeleteSurely we all come to that junction at some time
Much💖love
There is mystery everywhere. We don't know what's going to happen in the next moment, just like a well laid out book :-)
ReplyDeleteSuch a simple act, the combing of the hair, yet so tender.
ReplyDeleteWe are on the fringe of everything everyday
ReplyDeleteAlice trying to be everywhere, to absorb all, - don't... This is our choice to live in the tempo we want. I like the 'combing a hair', we can write our own book and read it, reaching to our own star! Much Love, dear Jae.
ReplyDelete"All the world is a mystery
ReplyDelete...
To live is to endure"
That sums up everyting at the moment.
I am always astounded how you bring such verve and even beauty to such subject matter, whilst never fudging or diminishing it.
ReplyDelete