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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Cadence - 1. Chapter 1

Holy-stoned, why does life grind us down so

like the surface of an old flagstone floor,

pulverized by grit just so it may glow

for passers-by who go, and who ignore.

 

Is our internal pain so hard to see? –

is it something ever scratched under tears,

which act as polish ‘neath our glossy plea

that someone notice us despite our fears.

 

Existence may whet when keen, and when young,

but wears on a soul heading to the grave,

who has at slippery surfaces but clung

being lowered through the floor of the nave.

 

Is Death the turning point that it’s promised,

or just Life’s grinding point at its calmest?

 

 

 

Suddenly

there are no more moments,

no time for candy-blush sunrises

or midsummer hermit thrush serenades at dusk,

nor even an instant to be spared

for tear-stained farewells with

those we love.


In this chapter, each of us contributed a poem.
Copyright © 2023 Parker Owens, AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Headstall
  • Popular Comment

I have pondered the question of faith often, more frequently as I age. These poems about death, whether sudden or slow, are universal. I think we all have seen both. Life does grind us down... in many ways that is the beauty of it... how we handle it. The questions asked in AC's are ones common to those who take the slower route--have that time to ponder--but no matter how hard we cling to slippery surfaces, we have no power to halt the fall, and the answers may never come. I guess for some, faith makes it easier to handle when the time comes. 

I recently (two years ago) lost a friend with no warning, and the skyscraper poem brought back all those feelings. How unfair it seemed, that he went to the bathroom one evening and didn't come out. He wouldn't walk his dog anymore, he wouldn't see the spring, or hear the birdcalls and watch the ducks he would tell me about. And yeah, with all those who loved him, he never got to say goodbye. Thanks for this, because it made me think of him, and how much joy he got from the littlest things. I hope there is more for him. Cheers.

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Parker Owens
2 minutes ago, Headstall said:

I have pondered the question of faith often, more frequently as I age. These poems about death, whether sudden or slow, are universal. I think we all have seen both. Life does grind us down... in many ways that is the beauty of it... how we handle it. The questions asked in AC's are ones common to those who take the slower route--have that time to ponder--but no matter how hard we cling to slippery surfaces, we have no power to halt the fall, and the answers may never come. I guess for some, faith makes it easier to handle when the time comes. 

I recently (two years ago) lost a friend with no warning, and the skyscraper poem brought back all those feelings. How unfair it seemed, that he went to the bathroom one evening and didn't come out. He wouldn't walk his dog anymore, he wouldn't see the spring, or hear the birdcalls and watch the ducks he would tell me about. And yeah, with all those who loved him, he never got to say goodbye. Thanks for this, because it made me think of him, and how much joy he got from the littlest things. I hope there is more for him. Cheers.

In collaborating on these, I reflected on the experiences of holding hands with those who are fading away, and mourning those who disappear in an instant. @AC Benus asks a great question in his sonnet, to which I cannot pretend an answer.  I can only hope to fade gracefully or disappear leaving smiles. Thanks a million for reading this first chapter, and for your reflections. 

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Parker Owens
On 4/21/2023 at 10:25 PM, raven1 said:

Two beautiful poems that felt like calm contemplations of a life nearing the end.  Whatever the end of life brings we do not know, but calm acceptance makes the passing less grinding on our souls.  You both spoke eloquently in these two poems.

Thank you for commenting on these. When @AC Benus asked if we might collaborate on this, it wasn’t clear how it would turn out. We seemed to be in synch from the start, as the masterful sonnet compliments the skyscraper. Thanks again. 

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Bill W

Two very provocative poems.  I've often felt as if life was slowly grinding me down, much like the wearing of a flagstone floor, and the older I get the more has been ground from my being.  I am fast approaching the time that your second poem talks about when I'll no longer be able to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets, but what awaits me after that, I believe I shall soon find out.  Thank you for these two offerings.  

  • Love 3
Parker Owens
14 minutes ago, Bill W said:

Two very provocative poems.  I've often felt as if life was slowly grinding me down, much like the wearing of a flagstone floor, and the older I get the more has been ground from my being.  I am fast approaching the time that your second poem talks about when I'll no longer be able to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets, but what awaits me after that, I believe I shall soon find out.  Thank you for these two offerings.  

Thanks very much for sharing your reactions. I too have felt worn down by the recent years, and I think @AC Benus sonnet beautifully expressed this. 

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