In the Waiting
In the Waiting
You wait
for a sign, inked
in sky,
even butterfly–
some calligraphy that will write
before your eyes
this is it,
permission
to live.
But, waiting,
head bangs
a moving wall,
the bangs you no longer wear
blurring all,
and you decipher only
a smeared graffiti of
it missed,
permission not taken
or taken
for granted.
Oh land; oh lord.
**************************
60 word poem for the wonderfully terse and succinct and sharp and distilled poet Mama Zen, for her prompt on Real Toads (re photograph of Fortune Teller, 1870’s.) Also for the wonderful (and Swedish) poet Bjorn Rudberg’s prompt on Real Toads on the subject of waiting.
Sorry for absence. Life hellish. (But only because of too much work, not an actual real-life problem.) Take care.
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Tags: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, permission to live poem, Waiting poem, you want the one real thing poem
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ManicDDaily 
December 4, 2015 at 12:55 am
Welcome back, I’ve missed you. ‘You wait / for a sign, inked / in sky / even butterfly—’ is gorgeous k, what an opening 🙂
December 4, 2015 at 6:42 am
Thanks much, Polly. K.
December 4, 2015 at 12:55 am
A sign in the sky, will it come? I wouldn’t waitp
December 4, 2015 at 1:27 am
“permission to live” very intriguing
December 4, 2015 at 1:50 am
Yes, “permission to live” Love that!!
December 4, 2015 at 6:33 am
Very Beautiful
December 4, 2015 at 7:20 am
So much going on here–the idea of our human desire to be told by something larger than us what’s what, what’s coming–the power some seek in that, or perhaps the helplessness of the seeker, and the tangle of unforeseeable events which crush us–I also thought of the refugee crisis, and just the crisis of identity the modern world pressures us into so many times. I may of course, be going totally astray here! ;_) Regardless of the thoughts behind this, the end effect of the poem is visually beautiful and internally troubling.
December 4, 2015 at 7:42 am
I love how you tied it to the waiting… I’m almost sure that that’s the secret of fortune telling is that everything will happen, so everything is always true… the when is never told… which makes all that waiting. Wonderful Karin (a very Swedish name)
December 4, 2015 at 8:02 am
Ha. Yes. I am Swedish on both sides of my family! (Which I’ve always been very happy about it.) There is a person from Norway mixed in too! Thanks. k.
On Fri, Dec 4, 2015 at 7:42 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:
>
December 4, 2015 at 10:48 am
A touching poem ~ giving oneself permission to ‘live’ not a simple matter. Wishing you a good weekend.
December 4, 2015 at 10:53 am
I love this section:
“the bangs you no longer wear
blurring all,
and you decipher only
a smeared graffiti of
it missed”
December 4, 2015 at 11:44 am
Ouch, a wasted chance to live? Say it isn’t so.
December 4, 2015 at 11:50 am
Oh Lord, Oh Universe, show me a sign, give me a torch to light my way through the terrible darkness–tell me of my strengths & charms & good looks, & just leave out the parts about my ego, arrogance, & obstinance. Damn fine piece, K. I feel like the signs, the chaos, the mass slaying, the zealous assassins are all around us; something nearly biblical in prophesy; but history tells us that this too will pass, like emboli, like Jim Crow, or will it?
December 4, 2015 at 12:03 pm
I love this! The first stanza moves so beautifully. Perfection.
December 4, 2015 at 2:04 pm
She does have such a look in her eyes. You read into it so well.
December 4, 2015 at 3:26 pm
Besides, the Gypsy lies.
December 4, 2015 at 9:11 pm
Only while waiting one can see normal things which can go fleetingly unnoticed otherwise.
Wonderful write K
Hank
December 5, 2015 at 12:20 pm
That first stanza is a zinger! Really good!
December 6, 2015 at 3:09 am
she does have some kind of look, doesn’t she? hope your work unhellifies… ~