Winding River

Image by Ted Huizinga from Pixabay

Days trickle into months and months into years
For time is a winding river through each brief life
And yesterday is but a wounded memory
Of moments trapped in ancient amber.
But today red wine flows from the silver chalice
To ruby stained lips longing to be kissed
In remembrance of her innocence
When she was beautiful and young.

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

dVerse Poetics: China- Kingdom of the Poem Author’s Note: Laura is hosting today at dVerse and has asked us to choose one of the poems given and provide our own impression of it. The poem I chose is:
Winding River ~ Du Fu
Each piece of flying blossom leaves spring the less,
I grieve as myriad points float in the wind.
I watch the last ones move before my eyes,
And cannot have enough wine pass my lips.
Kingfishers nest by the little hall on the river,
Unicorns lie at the high tomb’s enclosure.
Having studied the world, one must seek joy,
For what use is the trap of passing honour?

Day 20 of National Poetry Writing Month.

33 Comments on “Winding River

  1. the opening line “Days trickle into months” resonates beautifully with “But today red wine flows from the silver chalice
    To ruby stained lips longing to be kissed ”
    a wistful twist at the end that harks back to that river of life. Great poem Linda (and great minds think alike!!)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is absolutely beautiful, beautiful writing, Linda! I am especially moved by; “And yesterday is but a wounded memory of moments trapped in ancient amber.” 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ‘And yesterday is but a wounded memory
    Of moments trapped in ancient amber.’
    – this is such a beautiful and poetic image, so well suited to this style of poem!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Such a wonderful weave of words and of time. 💖
    I especially liked
    “moments trapped in ancient amber.”

    But then, I have always been very fascinated by the flying seed trapped in amber I’ve had since childhood.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Wine, memory, and winding rivers meld into correspondingly and finally take shape in desire: “ruby stained lips longing to be kissed.” Beautifully, memorably expressed.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. “For time is a winding river through each brief life” <– THIS! No matter how long one lives in the passage of time it is oh so brief. Such bittersweet remembrance.

    Liked by 1 person

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