Poetry
Comments 17

Upon The Fingers Of One Hand

You can count them on one hand,

those ones that mean the most

care the most

put up with the most.

 

You can gather acquaintance like confetti,

but there are always gaps between fingers

where people fall through

and when the wind sweeps by

it will leave you with empty palms.

 

Those ones who cling on,

who can be counted on one hand

are the ones who’ll scale mountains,

dig beneath oceans,

trek over desert

and parachute in over enemy territory.

 

All for the sake

of standing in the background

to push you forwards,

when the spotlight seems too bright.

 

For Brian’s prompt on DVersepoets in tribute to the poet Dave King

This entry was posted in: Poetry

by

Carol Forrester is a twenty-three year old writer trying to be a better one. Don’t ask her what her hobbies are because the list doesn’t get much beyond, reading, writing and talking about the same. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University and various poems and stories scattered across the net. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry’s. Most recently, her poem ‘Sunsets’ was featured on Eyes Plus Words, and her personal blog Writing and Works hosts a mass of writing from across the last five years. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and is always open to writing more and hosting guest bloggers here on Writing and Works. With hopes of publishing a novel in the next five years and perhaps a collection or two of smaller works, Carol Forrester is nothing if not ambitious. Her writing tries to cover every theme in human life and a lot of her work pulls inspiration from her own eccentric family in the rural wonders of Shropshire life.

17 Comments

  1. smiling at that last bit…those willing to step back and let you have the spotlight…that def captures it…and those friends that really touch us, they are rare…and when times get tough you find who they are…

  2. Brian has summed the poem up well Carol, I enjoyed it very much. those loyal trusted friends are worth so much and to be treasured always.

    • Indeed. I’m incredibly lucky that I have found a number of wonderful, loyal friends so young. The illustrator for the writing and works is one of my oldest friends and we consider each other more like sisters than anything else.

  3. ah that made me smile…those that fight so hard and work through different times and then are ok to have someone else all the spotlight glimmer (cause they’re not made for it – or cause friendship is more important..) rare indeed..

  4. I like this very much. The imagery of acquaintances slipping through fingers like too much confetti, blown away at the slightest breeze while true friends do all and more. Only one hand needed for friends like that. Very well put.

    (A couple of typos. Extra o on ‘too bright’. s missing on ‘ones’ in third stanza. Spot the teacher, eh? I’d rather know, myself. I find myself going into posts a lot to edit ‘cos I just didn’t see typos at the time. Constantly having to update once published. Only ever notice once it’s gone. Hope you don’t mind me saying. 😉 x

    • I don’t mind at all. I always seem to miss something no matter how many times I go over work. It always helps to have readers who are confident enough to point out my mistakes. Feel free to point out as many typos as you like.
      What do you teach?

Please take the time to tell me what you think, I love receiving feedback. :)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s