“The Intensity of a Dewdrop” The Sunday Whirl #87

Angst in the wind, listen to
whippoorwills in apple trees,
trepidation rushes into shadow.

A naturalist on the red clover patch;
today I heard a mangled forest sigh.

Jackhammers top off concrete
on a New York City sidewalk;
tarmacs turn slick after rainy nights.
Yosemite Park with hot spitting geysers
blasting a groundswell of phosphate,
enlightening caustic intentions of the sun.

Black eyes shiny as onyx
(two dark holes in a cranium)
swimming in glass – a tragic chalice.
A sawed-off shotgun in his bedroom,
life’s beauty starves, looking for an escape;
an inside-out itchy sweater,
unfolded, crumples in a dresser drawer.

Milky spindrift wakes me in the morning;
a strain on the day’s visibility,
I veil behind eyes closed eternally.


21 responses to ““The Intensity of a Dewdrop” The Sunday Whirl #87

  1. Very intense and, also tragic in light of our world these days. It’s all very powerful in its imagery but, the last two stanzas …pow.

  2. magicalmysticalteacher

    More than all the sombre images in your poem, I choose to focus on the whippoorwill. It is, I think, a sign of hope. The night my daughter was born, one landed outside our door and piped its haunting melody. I carry that song in my heart.

    The Day’s News

    • And that is a good thing to remember, Miss Magical. I however, have to pull myself out of this depression I am experiencing right now. Life can be sombre, can’t it?

  3. Yes, that last line really struck me! I will read it again.

  4. I love this piece!

  5. A sawed-off shotgun in his bedroom,
    life’s beauty starves, looking for an escape;

    dang some wicked contrasting images and feelings throughout this pamela….the beauty and the pain…

  6. The intermingling of violence with tenderness, the jackhammer and the bird – really good contrast. Expecially the sawed-off shotgun and starved beauty ending with eyes closed eternally.

  7. A tragic, written with economy and grace.

  8. The gentle beginning is an illusion
    Foreboding builds amid the clamor
    A veiled threat revealed in onyx eyes
    No rest in that eternal sleep

    Beautifully evocative and mysterious


  9. This is beautiful, Pam, and so sad. Looks like we both have Friday on our minds. The words said nothing else, when I saw them, but then again, Newtown (near where I lived for many years) is on my mind, weighing heavily.

  10. I must still be in shock…I’m not getting any of these, tonight.

  11. Powerful, Pamela. I, too, like the contrast throughout, the sights and sounds add so much intensity. I especially like:

    A naturalist on the red clover patch;
    today I heard a mangled forest sigh.

  12. Volunteer. That’s one way to get out of moods that would like to drag us under. Perhaps it is that kind of a distraction that is needed to let us know that life does continue despite all the negative news. We have a friend who was in a coma for about two months because of a serious car accident and is now in rehab. The family updates us with progress daily so we get to see the amazing progress unfolding.

    Keep reaching there are many hands willing to help lift you up. Your piece has as many reflections as a broken mirror. Look for the beauty and focus on that. I’ve been there…and I’ve climbed out. You can too!

    Thank you for your visit to my non-story verse. Peace…

  13. We can’t (or shouldn’t) always write about happy beautiful things. That isn’t realistic. I like your poem because it is so human, full of contrasts and conflicts. I can only wish you a warm and beautiful Christmas my friend, be at peace,


  14. `angst in the wind’ and `trepidation in the shadow’ – both brilliant!

I appreciate all comments.

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