Another lonely Sunday afternoon

Another lonely Sunday afternoon

 

Another lonely Sunday afternoon

Winter breathes its chilled winds of splintered hopes

and browns sits where once played greens

Empty stems lack their beauty

Wilted vines weave fragile on weathered fence posts

As one shadow stretches this back porch

and another beer is opened

 

Staring off into nothing,

understanding this feeling in barren breaths

Watching leafless trees beg forgiveness

as gray skies paint my eyes

in broken twigs and braided fears

Yet this too shall end with sun warmed days

as spring makes its triumphant return

 

Still thoughts of wayward emotions fill my mind…

will I see this spring, breathe this air,

watch butterflies frolic in a nectar’d haze

drinking in the beauty of the season or sit here

counting rain etched floor boards

gazing at my eternal winter, by myself ~ unloved…

on another lonely Sunday afternoon

Author's Note

Thank you for reading

Reviews

[Josie E. Cook M. A.]

I love how you paint the picture before your eyes inside the poetic lines.
Winter is always gray to me -even when it is covered with white. Those cold skies cast the grayness around unless we are lucky to see the sun peak through it.

[Jack...]

Josie, I always appreciate your visits. Thank you ever so much my friend.

[Josie E. Cook M. A.]

You are welcome~That tree reminds me of one that I climbed in my childhood~I like it with this poem.

[Raymond Federle]

A wonderful poem! Emotive and descriptive. You can just feel the grey empty of winter oozing out of this write but with undertones of hopeful spring. Excellent! :)

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much Raymond for your kind words.

[Brittany Zedalis]

Loneliness can be completely overwhelming sometimes. The imagery in this is beautiful. Great job!

[Jack...]

Thanks Brittany for your kindness. I appreciate you taking the time to read and review my work.

[Vidya Bacchus]

Sometimes loneliness is all encompassing .I felt the sadness in your poem Jack.

[Jack...]

Thanks Vidya, somedays it just gets a little lonely

[Vidya Bacchus]

you have a lot of friends here.You are welcome I understand it well.

[Shaquana Adams]

I liked that you used to trees to convey the loneliness. This is so beautifully sad. I love the use of death symbolism with the trees freezing and the ground now brown. Bravo! :)

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much Shaquana. I appreciate your kindness.

[Shaquana Adams]

You're welcome

[Justine]

Beautifully sad, strumming heart strings to play a mournful tune. But glimmers of hope peep through the gloom. I love poetry that makes me feel, pause, reflect and hope. You convey the emotion and the reality of loneliness very well. Justine :)

[Jack...]

Thank you so much Justine for your wonderfully kind words. I am happy you enjoyed this.

[Lyn Anderson]

This one is a bit gloomy, but nonetheless well written. Hey, I like gloomy.:)

[Jack...]

Thanks so much KL, at least the claws and fangs were put away this time. :) I truly do appreciate you taking the time to read and review my work. And if it is something you don't care for, please by all means say so.

[Lyn Anderson]

Oh, no, my taste is versatile. I can appreciate a wide variety of styles, even if it is something I wouldn't do myself.

[Jack...]

I am the same way. But the way I see it, if someone doesn't like or agree with what I write, then they should say so.

[Emma Grace Tennyson]

"Counting rain etched floor boards"
Fantastic imagery.

[Jack...]

Thank you so very much Emma. They actually were rain etched. :)

[Emma Grace Tennyson]

Even better. :)

[Joyce S. Greene]

This must be your muse speaking, Jack, because I know you are a loving and well loved man. Your poem is so very sad but equally beautiful. Cheer up, spring will be here before you know it and then things will look a lot brighter!

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much Joyce. FYI - it is 80 degrees here today. I was just one of those days yesterday.

[Joyce S. Greene]

Glad to hear it, Jack. It's going to be very cold again for a while here and how I hate it! You are blessed to live somewhere warm.

[m.s.early]

You remind me of how well I hate Sunday afternoons when my children are gone and remind me of why I sleep through them.

This poem wrenched my heart with its loneliness, but sometimes the seasons are a matter of perception. Winter has its own beauty. Silvers and whites and crystal and chrome. And after all, the trees may seem barren, but they are prepared. They began to store sugar in the autumn and their leaves became brilliant because of it. In winter their fuel cells are in reserve. They will be as prepared for the spring, ready to bud and reclaim their green. Perhaps it is metaphoric as we too will only reclaim love once prepared to receive it.

Perhaps it would do me well to outfit myself for new opportunities rather than grieve the past seasons as another year disappears.

Thanks Jack.

[Jack...]

Thanks so much X for your always kind and in depth reviews. You seem to delve deep into my words and always find the meaning, whether it is evident or not.