Hold up your hands,
Stained with pale fire,
Until hot dreams of
Bright futures grow dim,
Cooling against your sighs,
Softening like your soul,
Trickling through your fingers,
As dried streams of
Hope haunts unfettered children –
These phantoms drawn in
Ash falling like snow.
Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Ash” as part of their Quadrille Night.
Discarded Recollections 
There is a powerful sense of loss here, of unfulfilled promise. Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you for reading my recollections. I enjoy that space, between loss and realization, stretched out beyond all conscious thought. Dying hope and promises lingering in the wind are filled with such sad beauty that I cannot help but respect it.
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“pale fire” — I like that image / metaphor
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As with many of my most clever lines, I stole it. Nabokov, I think.
Still, I think I made good use of it, as all clever thieves believe.
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Wow this is such a powerful poem. The hope slipping away from those children.
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You’re very kind. I think hope is limitless in many ways, but that’s simply because they have such a short lifespan. Children grow up – dreams often do not.
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Love it all, esp the dried streams of hope.
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Your words are a balm, friend. Dried streams of hope… why does it sound better when you say it?
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What a sobering fleeting moment of reflection to capture. I feel sadness as phantom dreams fall as ash, like snow. Your imagery is sharp, specific and superbly done.
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Truly your words are too kind. I’m thankful for it. I was worried things felt too surreal – I often find it hard to manage the balance, but that is why I enjoy the restrictions of the quadrille.
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Love the hot and cold play. Powerful.
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What can I say? I love a good dichotomy.
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So good. 🙂
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It feels like the MC is in a very fragile state of mind.
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Always. Fragility makes it precious. A broken cup, I find, is often more beautiful than a whole one.
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Just don’t cut your lip on its jagged edge!
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A great poem… dreams turned to ashes… A great metaphor!
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For you to say so makes me proud. Another recollection deserving of some love, then.
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:>)
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So beautiful, and super-charged with sorrow!
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I adore the idea of super-charging something with sorrow. It’s so sad, yet so glorious!
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This is so good:
Just great, Masa!
❤
David
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You’re too kind, friend. I’m so sure I deserve such praise. The imagery was there, so I took it and felt it run through my hands like the softest sand.
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So beautiful and sad–that hope cooled and drifting away.
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Beautiful and sad is what I always aspire to. Your words settle upon my heart like a silken blanket, and I am warmed by the thought.
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You are very welcome.
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This is not just filled with sadness, but also compassion. There are so many who must feel this… the pale fire burning … the ash snow in the end.
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I am as all poets – seeking to share with you a secret that you’ve always held in your heart. Thank you, as always.
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The image of ash falling like snow is so original! Very powerful quadrille 💝💝
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