History

The strands
so varied in color
each a story half`told
the unraveling fabric
of lives but only
half`seen

One strand
a glad poet song
colored all blossoms
riotous spring ablaze
dancing barefoot
on glass

One strand
the lunatic rage
white demons dark
stark voice of stone
all fetal`curled
fetid wet

One strand
a psalmic prayer
washed bloody free
a penitent reformed
on bended knee
grace spun

One strand
still the mystery
the clear crystal vase
awaiting a fragile iris
all lilac scented
in death

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About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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6 Responses to History

  1. oddly coincident to some of my own thoughts today

    Like

  2. ~meredith says:

    Reblogged this on Living is Not Mental Illness and commented:
    Many strands, many-colored lives… poet Peter Notehelfer writes poetry with phrases that will touch you, make you smile. Happy Sunday.

    Meredith.

    Like

  3. kat says:

    wow-you went into my mind. i am a spiritual person, but not especially religious. i have always viewed human life, humanity, as a tapestry, with each thread representing each person’s life, starting at the beginning of civilization and ending with the last person’s death. no one will ever see the completed tapestry, but everyone’s life and story contributes to it, both evil and good, because humanity is made up of all people, and each person’s thread is needed to complete the tapestry. i never thought anyone else had seen it in a similar way before!

    Like

    • It’s not just that community and even humanity represent the complex tapestry of life; it is remarkable to me that I myself am a complex weaving, more so than I usually recognize, including the mystery which remains just beyond my reach. Thanks for the response and for the reblog . . . Blessings . . .

      Liked by 1 person

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