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No Pearls
by Clara Mae GregoryFrom a
broken hourglass,
they fall
without measure.
Alone,
one by one.
The grains gather.
Lost pearls to be-
now nothing more than
drifting specks of sand
that lay
on the edge
of a sterile oyster bed
with dead shells,
razor sharp
and unyielding,
laying in decay.
09/20/2009
Posted on 09/20/2009
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 09/20/09 at 11:49 PM I really like this, being important once, only to realize, we're all just sand, and in death of hope, dreams, love, life, decay:) |
| Posted by Joe David on 09/21/09 at 12:15 AM "Even a dead bee can sting you". Lifeless shells are still dangerous. I love the suggestion that the sand in an hourglass once had meaning when it denoted time, but now falls without meaning, measuring nothing. No meaning, no life, only decay. Without meaning there is no life. Well done. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/24/09 at 12:03 PM I simply adore this image you have created and pasted in my mind's photo album. I will ne'er look at hourglasses in the same way, nor oyster beds. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/26/10 at 03:05 PM pearls to be - cool idea. How much of my time lay about me sterile because I did not provide the vessel for them to become pearls. On the other hand, as I think about poems, each is perhaps an instance in which a grain of sand caused an irritation within to become a thing of beauty. Thought provoking and beautiful piece, Mel. |
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