Friday, September 28, 2018

Poetry Friday: Hours


I have known hours of such varying intensity this week ... lovely hours, wrenching hours, calm hours, hours of laughter, anxious hours. Hazel Hall knows.


Hours
Hazel Hall

I have known hours built like cities,
House on grey house, with streets between
That lead to straggling roads and trail off,
Forgotten in a field of green;

Hours made like mountains lifting
White crests out of the fog and rain,
And woven of forbidden music—
Hours eternal in their pain.

Life is a tapestry of hours
Forever mellowing in tone,
Where all things blend, even the longing
For hours I have never known.

(Found here, on Poets.org.)

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Jone Rush MacCulloch has the roundup today.  


9 comments:

katrink said...

beautiful. thank you for sharing!

Mary Lee said...

Timely.

Linda B said...

Beautiful for now, Karen. Thank you!

jama said...

Thanks for the intro to a new-to-me poet. Such truth.

Ruth said...

This is a beautiful one.

Tabatha said...

"Hours like mountains lifting" is my favorite. Seems like a good writing exercise. What else are hours like?
Fingers crossed that next week is less wrenching!

Kay said...

Lovely images--I've often wondered how an hour can seem so different at different times.

Jone MacCulloch said...

Life is a tapestry of hours is perfect.

Michelle Kogan said...

Seems as if Hall's time was sparse also… I like her ending lines,
"Where all things blend, even the longing
For hours I have never known."