image from here
..
we have held light
in our very hands, crum
-bled and smeared
across our hungry skin.
we have kept secrets
………(skeletal, haunting)
counted them in the dark.
we have collected shards
of sharp and silent things;
broken
stars. mourned other things
we saved
…in jars.
..
.
It’s Quadrille day at dVerse! I missed the last one, so I’m sooooo ready to play! The bar opens at noon, PST! Come play!
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Oh, this is quite splendid! >
Oh I can tell you are hungry for the Quadrille… this is wonderful… Love the way we collect all those sad stories, the sharpness and the things that bled… sometimes I think that’s a jar we should keep closed, like Medea’s box.
Beautiful — image and words. So so happy you are posting. I adore fireflies and they are one thing I deeply miss having moved in ’97 from Iowa to Boston. ….and yes….so many specials we save in jars, put away, shards, memories, lovely things too. I enjoyed this very much!
I’ve been putting up veggies and making pickles for the months ahead. And I have special things in jars like old buttons, my father’s shaving kit from the war – and in the private jar of my soul, those sharp and silent things. Wonderful quadrille. It is good to have you back posting with your unique words.
I love the lines ‘we have collected shards of sharp silent things’. It made me shiver.
Oh yes. It seems so. We do collect stories in a jar, more often than not, sad. I like the split of the word crumbled in that first verse. very well done!
Always was so amazed by those fireflies when I was a girl and yes, would sometimes catch them in jars only to watch for a while and then let them go. Love this, De. It shows how we compartmentalize parts of our lives and keep some safely contained. Nice to have you back!
This is so haunting. I particularly like ‘we have collected shards / of sharp and silent things’ – beautiful!
Beautiful work here, De ❤
Oh, I do love this. “We have held light in our very hands” – I find that really powerful. I love the whole thing.
“shards
of sharp and silent things;
broken
stars”
Oh how that made me gasp. And mourn. SO beautifully haunting.
Great description of that jar we all have. I guess some of us open it more than others.
Love the ending lines De!
We save too many things in jars, usually the wrong ones.Your reference to skeletons reminds me to empty the ckoset. I’ll do it tomorrow, he he.
I love the tone and details of this piece. Beautiful Quadrille! ❤
If we literally try to save pretty things in jars, we usually end up killing them, don’t we? 😦
Simply lovely
Love the secrets in the dark, De.
Happy to be reading you again.
Did I miss something? All the folks in the comments saying, “lovely”, “beautiful”, and such. For me, your poem was horribly morose and gruesome — in a very well done manner. But I don’t read poems well. I saw fireflies heartlessly smashed and smeared on the children’s hands and all the rest flow from that.
Sabio, I love that you read this with a darker edge to it. It pleases me when a piece brings different interpretations to different readers. And yes, of course, with those closet skeletons, there was a shadow across this piece…
Ah, so subtle. You escape without letting your readers know about the evil grin that has crossed your face in your dark childhood past. 😉
For the record, I was always heartbroken when a firefly accidentally bit the dust (or became dust, as it were.) Some of those other skeletons, the regret didn’t kick in until years later…
ah, for the record, you have a much gentler heart than me
I was just treated to a grove of fireflies at dusk. Love this poem
Oh the things we save . . .and the things we throw away. Love this, De!
This is so good. I love the positioning of “crumbled” as it is read aloud.
Hi De! Love the poem. Jars are wonderful things to collect in and your poem is a jar in itself, with a beautiful collection of words – and stars. Stars in jars!
sparks of imagination here! and always the touch of the unexpected interjection:
(skeletal, haunting)
Oh, this is beautiful and haunting. ❤
Fabulous (as usual). Love the way crumbled and smeared becomes bled and smeared.
This is a powerful piece of writing. I especially liked this part:
“we have collected shards
of sharp and silent things;
broken
stars. mourned other things
we saved
…in jars.”
So much to unpack in so few lines. Well written.
Breathtaking!
Fireflies! I’ve seen them once or twice where we’ve lived. None are around here though, so didn’t have experience of catching them to put in jars. I like your poem, but I kept getting the image of smearing bug guts, sorry! Kind of like those glow sticks when you break one and the glowing stuff gets all over you.
a broken jar of dreams, but thank goodness for the fireflies…
Fireflies infuse such magic into summer evenings! But they (crum-) bled phosphorescent if crushed into a haunting smear…your poem is the jar you captured them in!
I live fireflies! And your words are magical 🙂
So beautiful.
I do love this. Magic.
This takes me back to my childhood!! We found such good use for jars….indeed a magical time.