at the end
of an alleyway
my lucky number
hot lit
in the late afternoon sun
the buzz
of recognition
like a chance
glance
across a crowded room
hey it's my day
my lucky day
to my right
my lower right
a form shuffles
in the shadows
a man's muffled cough
from
inside
what was once
a sleeping bag
padded with newspapers
and weather-stained
cardboard
our fortunes
separated
by a chance
beam of light
20 comments:
Hi Steven
I like the way you wrote this piece. Fortune is a fickle concept isn't it. there are so many interacting elements at work in the design of one's fortune and yet then again there does seem to be an over-riding energy of 'destiny'...
Happy days
A jarring poem, Steven. Perhaps your fortunes were actually joined rather than separated by that beam of light. Beautifully written!
Rick
Love that last stanza, it packs a poetic punch.
PS: I have a little poetry contest going on over at my blog this week...stop by when the get the chance!
Beautiful!!
well aleks thankyou very much! steven
terresa thankyou for the invitation. i'll put that on my to-do list for later today!! steven
hey rick - i think i agree with you. there is nothing more reminding of ones fortunes than the presence of fortune defined in a wholly different way. steven
thanks delwyn. when i look back over the as yet to be completed arc of my life i can see the place of both the successes and the failures and see them as actually neither. i know them now as way stations on the way to my becoming. steven
What would fortune be if it wasn't unexpected? The goddess Fortuna was always fickle.
Luck and misfortune rolled up together as in a sleeping bag. Great image Steven and the thoughts that go with it are sobering. Thanks.
There's the biblical allusion to seated at one's right,..to my right, my lower right...interesting. Could it represent a calling and a responding? A dilemma we all face.
This is so beautiful and touching, too, Steven. Yes you are lucky, you are. Yes.
The cards dealt- how we play them- that is the answer to fortune I think...
Your poem pierces to the root. We need to be reminded that our date with destiny straddles a fine line. I like how your words suggest that the poem might have been about you having a lovely sleep in your newspaper stuffed sleeping bag, when some looky-loo in nice clothes wandered by taking pictures of the graffiti on your "living room" walls.
barry - fickle - oh yes. accept the unexpected is one of my mantras!! steven
elisabeth - i know just how quickly fortune can change. i also know that perspectives can be radically different contingent on ones fortune. chance. well it's embedded in every moment. steven
paul c. the biblical allusion isn't one i can connect to in content but the allusion to "my lower right" is connected to mevlevi dervish turning ... steven
yeah reya - i wake up every day and even if i'm not happy i feel really fortunate not in what i have but in what i am. steven
ya know linda sue i see times when i made choices and knowingly took a risk but had no sense of the purpose, the outcome, nothing really. i played the cards and let them ride where they may. but then again there's the whole intuitive piece. prescience even. steven
hi richard jesse watson!! the gossamer thread between myself and any other person. the gossamer threads that make up the tapestry of my existence are each so fine that at any time any one of them could snap or bend or warp to te needs of my spirit and i could be on the other end of the camera. steven
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