you can’t save a star like you save a sandwich;
believe me, I’ve tried.
you can’t eat half and put the rest in the fridge saying,
“oh, I’ll save a bit for later.”
you can’t press them like you press flowers in a dictionary
flattened somewhere between “moth” and “mountain”
they always get rumpled, and they never come out right,
because anyway, they can’t read, and they get bored in there.
you can’t wrap them in foil, or plastic
or fancy cloth napkins
and you most certainly can’t catch them and put them in your pocket.
I mean really. that’s just absurd.
you can’t drop them in a piggy bank--
clink clink clink--
like loose change off the sidewalk
no matter how tin-and-coppery their shine.
when stars fall, they fall.
when stars burn out, they’re gone.
but sometimes their glow continues to linger...
sometimes we’re left a little light for later.
Comments
:)
Oh, thank you. :) I think we'd be friends too.
Yeah, I always thought that song was a little off. I mean, why save it for a rainy day? Stars don't make rain go away...? Gloomy. They should have said gloomy.
I like this......
This is really pretty Hannah......and I loved the line:
because anyway, they can’t read, and they get bored in there.
I thought that was great. (When I first saw the title I thought about the Phial of Galadirel......but then I thought 'creepy lady!' and I knew I had the wrong idea) :)
This poem was simply lovely,
This poem was simply lovely, Hannah.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brother: Your character should drive a motorcycle.
Me: He can't. He's in the wilderness.
Brother: Then make it a four-wheel-drive motorcycle!
Awww......that was lovely
Awww......that was lovely : ). For some reason it reminded me of my friend Liz. Good stuff!
.....
I love these lines....
you can’t press them like you press flowers in a dictionary
flattened somewhere between “moth” and “mountain
no matter how tin-and-coppery their shine
.....beautiful.....
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The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine
I love your poetry so much.
I love your poetry so much. One of these days, publish an anthology. www.lulu.com might be of service.
Now, for this particular poem: The rhythm is perfect. I love the voice, too, and I think we'd be friends. But so much for "Catch a Falling Star and Put It in Your Pocket," huh?
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief