Jingle Ironies

snow on weeping tree

A day can seem like forever born,
a year but a passing shadow.
Ten hours in a car to nowhere, forlorn,
stellar travel just out on the patio!

There’s a feast before us, ready to consume,
yet the largest, glitziest package may be hollow
while the tiny, cardboard box may perfume
long winter nights with dreams one can follow.

A world in a word, sealed with a kiss,
yet years mayn’t ever heal a kiss wounded.
Who’s to say what the meaning is, ’til
you see that “you’ve got to choose it!”

Jingle ironies or love’s frivolity, it’s
not with whom, but how we share life, clearly.
Be gentle by your spirit and kindle its fortitude.
Share with those who might need it so, dearly.

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19 thoughts on “Jingle Ironies

  1. I hope we have a sense of humour. If writers block (or in my case, never block but a lack of desire) could be called constipation, you’re writing..for me..could be called laxative. This is the second time I visited your blog with not a hint of something to write about, and ran back to my blog with a stream of consciousness spattering of words.

    I love writing and having no idea what it’s about till it’s done!

    (These are loosely constructed compliments of the highest degree…)

  2. Mike, you really are quite brilliant! I understand the little ironic jabs mixed in with the creative metaphors in those intriguing sentences. Yes, we have a sense of humor indeed. We often giggle when writing and reading poems like “jingle ironies”, which vibrates inanely deep. Somehow from within vapid emptiness something glittering emerges. It’s floppy emptiness is fulfilling, freeing. Happy splattering of your spattering! Giggle.

  3. “A day can seem like forever born,
    a year but a passing shadow.”

    {sitting stunned in silence at the beauty of this one sentence}

  4. If life were the meat, then words were the salt and pepper…fresh herbs the literature, and truffles, prose.

    “with the stains of occupation, he left fingerprints on the dollar signs of his being, traded paper for purpose and pocketed the crumbs of the priviledged that he might wither away into a bottle of nothing while establishing his everything as no more then a wink from the eye of the one’s whom profited from his loss.”

  5. Mike- I think the truffles would be poetry, and prose the sauce.

    “He leans against the greasy back door of the bustling upscale restaurant, shadowed under a glaring light, his face flush from the broiling kitchen heat, strong arms folded against lean, wide chest outlined in a brown stained t-shirt. His thoughts are far off in dreams of ease, trying to forget her kiss, oblivious to the beauty of his presence around him, raking in eyes of rich patrons as they pass the alley in which he stands. If only he knew. He goes back in and smiles compassionately at those who share his predicament.”

  6. Trée- Oooo, that’s a good one. You know how to go for the core. To me, momentum is more about attitude than experience. That’s saying a lot about me already, and how I tick. I’m gonna ponder momentum for awhile, slowly. 🙂

  7. “A world in a word, sealed with a kiss, yet years mayn’t ever heal a kiss wounded.”

    These words says it all my darlin’ Garnet… It’s beautiful… Thank you for sharing!


  8. Yes, tell us about the picture?

    not with whom, but how we share life

    Thank you for the thoughtful and loving way you share yours.

  9. Good morning. I took that photo in a beautiful quiet snow storm, with huge, fluffly flakes cakeing everything. The tree in the photo is a weeping crabapple. Using the flash captured the large snowflakes as moons and the tree as a hovering web, almost alien.

  10. Fascinating. It’s a great shot. I love how there are two moons, one crescent… on either side of a fan/wave/mountain/ufo (??!!) of branches. Really cool.

  11. Pingback: Seasonal Poems to Warm the Soul at Glittering Muse

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