There Are Things

Karen Pendergrass

Karen Pendergrass

There are things
and the images of things
The longer we live the more
the image of a thing is its reality
Old men don’t trust realities
Like children they believe
the Phoenix’ rise

With a failing eye
an old man scans the dawn
not in hope of seeing the sun
whose rising he knows by heart
He’s hoping to catch daylight
at play among the shadows
the mermaid’s dive

And on the shore
an old man stoops to catch
a handful of the wave’s foam
not to wash sand from his hand
He’s only longing to hold on
to that which can’t be held
the chimera’s demise

“How many nights must it take one such as me to learn that we aren’t,
after all, made from that bird that flies out of its ashes” ~ Galway Kinnell


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 There Are Things

  1. I am that old fool


  2. Beauty in each and every line, Peter. A most pleasurable piece to read <3


  3. kiwiskan says:

    …is there room for another on that beach

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Oh, yes, by all means . . . There’s always room for you! . . .


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