Somewhere on this little ball
Of dirt and hurt and wondering
A poet had a thought and scrawled
The letters to his pondering
…and while life's highway twists and turns
The words remain now century-worn
To remind us what we learn
Are new old poems being born
Beneath the sun is nothing new
Of flood or drought, of joy or pain
A song, a poem, a dance or two
And we return to earth again
…but somewhere on this little ball
Of dirt and hurt and wondering
We ought to take the time to scrawl
The poems of our pondering…
© Janet Martin
Over and over I have whispered thank-you to the poets of old.
Really love your opening and closing lines in this one! Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThank-you PL:)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad we have this place to share our thoughts... and I love looking up old lyrics, reading old books, and finding antique art. I often wonder what the author or artist was like, and if they could've imagined someone would still be interested to read their words or see their artwork a century later! Gives me hope that something I write or create will live on past my lifetime :) Have a blessed day Janet!
ReplyDeleteMegan, your artistic creations will not only remain after your are gone, the will be turned into family heir-looms! Your creativity never ceases to amaze me and I too am so glad that we have a little corner of cyber-space where we can share our kindred loves!
ReplyDeleteKeep cool as the heat wave continues!
but somewhere on this little ball
ReplyDeleteOf dirt and hurt and wondering
We ought to take the time to scrawl
The poems of our pondering…
LOVE this!!! Janet you are seriously a blessing!! Thank you for doing this wondering and pondering and gifting us with your words!! :)
Hannah, Daniel was right...there is no mean word in your vocabulary!
ReplyDeleteThank-you:)
Sending thanks to you, "new old", poet for scrawling!
ReplyDeleteTUG, there is a lump in my throat. Thank-you:)
ReplyDelete