Tonight is the Poetry & the Creative Mind Gala. It’s free.
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to imagine looking through a window, any window, and describing what I see.
The PAD prompt is to write an evening poem.
Over at the A to Z Challenge they’re playing the Yes Game. My Janus word is yield which can mean; to give up, surrender, or relinquish, but also; to produce by natural process.
Today is Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub where you can share your best recent poem and read and comment on all the great poetry being shared.
This is the window
with the slightly broken sill
covered in flakes of pop-corn ceiling
with semi-sheer blinds that when open
tuck up all wrinkled on one side
through this dusty, cobwebbed window
revealed by off-white sheers belted to hooks
where a speck of a beige-dotted bug climbs
there’s a once thought impossible view
because for my whole life
it was blocked by next door’s tall firs
providing cool shade lakeside
my great aunt told me
she did it on purpose
to hurt her brother next door
a family feud of unnatural proportion
wielding God’s power one sibling on another
imagine each day’s hurt never recovered
But they’re all gone now
and I can finally see past
the iron railing, the rhodie, and the hedge
to the rippling water, a dock, and a buoy
to the houses and the park, but above that
what this table was so long deprived
is the sky filled with mountain–
ignore the threatening volcano inside–
massive contrasts of blue and white
glacier and rock, snow blanketed slopes
it’s never not amazing, not one single time
I look, even hiding behind complete cloud cover
when a stranger wouldn’t know it’s there
I tried to think of any other window
where I would rather look
and suddenly, I am in the international
space station, looking down on Earth
my body is confined, but my view
through this small portal is as if
the eye of God. To see the sphere
its atmosphere floating in the void
to know the glorious insignificance
of momentary stresses, bringing
overwhelming strife, but seeing
all connection of a day in life
But there’s no coming back from that
I’ve already known what new seeing
can do, would I want to add that fractured
knowing too?
I only have this window for a ticking-clock
of time, I want to be aware, to take in each tick
of this view while it’s sublime, the years
of firs blocking the way flew so quickly by
knowing there are limits, a coming end
erases the flaws in the pane, even the
baked-on bird gifts that won’t scrape
with a blade, all I see gleams
this view holds a vivid shine
Experience Writing 
A lovely recount of a family rift blocking a glorious view, and beautiful appreciation of the view unblocked at last. Bravo
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Thank you.
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I very much enjoyed the story you’ve shared, how the magnificent view finally came to be. So glad that it can finally be appreciated. Love these lines….
“it’s never not amazing, not one single time
I look, even hiding behind complete cloud cover
when a stranger wouldn’t know it’s there”
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Thank you.
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The way you gradually expanded the viewpoint then returned to the immediate view was powerful. So much unseen,unappreciated beauty and time wasted in human quarrels. So tragic. Two thumbs up on this!
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Deeply rumbling with magnificence, this poem.
I liken the view to God and how others can do their best to keep you from it for whatever reason; yet once seen, never taken away again:
“it’s never not amazing, not one single time”
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Your poem is exquisite ….. simply exquisite.
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This your notion of view from the one window says so much here – beautiful to read and well worked, Maria
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Great story, nicely told, and a happy conclusion with a view.
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Incredible poem with a story I won’t forget. This reminds one how the best views can be clouded with grudges when we don’t forgive. 👏👏
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Thank you.
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Welcome 🌸
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How much is too much? Once we have the wide world before us, how can we look away?
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I guess that’s why the ridiculous wealth is no one has is headed toward Mars.
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Thank you for the view Maria! 🙂
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What an amazing story the view of a window can tell… the memory of a family feud that never healed
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Thank you. There are still a couple blocking firs on the next plot that was their father’s. Trees are odd weapons that fight back in the wind.
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