Butterflies on Stilts

I feel like a barometer,
the one I have in the hall,
in the mahogany case
and its accurate too.
Storms are due tomorrow,
and there it is,
batten down the hatches,
except my storm was
last night and I feel
ravaged today;
my savage tears
choked me, ran unchecked
as I mopped and wiped
wishing the night would end
and my companion
to the loneliness
would somehow
miraculously return.
Yet like all storms,
it did abate
my barometer tilted
I felt like a butterfly
on stilts, wilted
blowing this way, that way.
Shipbuilding runs in our veins,
at the maritime museum
I read about great great grandfather,
he steered his ship to calmer ports.
Great Grandfather was a naval engineer,
set to sea, died blind.
I just have a barometer
it marks my moods
as surely as the ghosts
of storms far out at sea.
Storms are due tomorrow
perhaps the howls
will somehow hollow out
and the ancestors
keep us safe.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 588 times
Written on 2013-10-26 at 17:26

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This I love and the title is simply killer:)
2014-07-26


countryfog
Some critic complimented the poet Linda Gregg's writing for its "vivid inhabitation of lived experience" . . . I can't do better than that in complimenting yours. The range of your subjects covers a lot of ground yet they are always rooted in a sensibility and voice that are immediately recognizeable as yours and a relatability that also makes them ours.
2013-10-27


shells
I will tap my barometer that I have in my hall, (that used to be in my parents hall) as I go to bed, I can hear the wind blowing up now and I think of them.You have done a beautiful job with this piece, lovely title too.
2013-10-27



very nice work and I just love that title and the images throughout:)
2013-10-26