He sat awake listening to the distant chimes in a forlorn wind,
a cacophony of scattered tones grating on his raw nerves
as the muted sunrise curved in the early morning mist.
The grayness served to mirror a tattered heart;
his vast emotions had skirted the edge of rationale.
Failing to scale the treacherous precipice of love,
there was no one else to blame.
He had drawn the short straw.
© Copyright – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013
Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #93
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
Bummer!
Yes Henri, gray paints with a broad brush.
Lovely – begins as a wonderful opening scene – and ends poetically – really enjoyed the flow of this one –
Thanks, Pearl. I get the feel it all reads as a good opening. What transpired to bring him down is still much in question!
Isn’t it always the case…?
Yes, Stan. A consistent conundrum!
Poor chap. I think most straw is short these days!
Yes Viv, but one is always the shortest!
enjoyed your use of the wordle words! maybe he’ll get a chance to draw straws again?
If he’s smart, he’ll get back up to draw again!
Drawing the short straw certainly puts things in perspective, although it may not be a very welcome perspective!
Whirling with James Joyce
Sometimes, the bear eats you, MMT!
Alas, poor dude. Methinks the weather doth conspire against the open heart.
Yea, verily, Barbara!
This is lovely, Walt… especially:
a cacophony of scattered tones grating on his raw nerves
as the muted sunrise curved in the early morning mist
I am well waxed this morning, Laurie! Poetically speaking, of course!
While not a happy [!] poem, I do think it fun the way you incorporated all the words to perfectly describe heartbreak.
As with writing, Margo, we paint what we know!
It’s true, poor fellow. That is a raw poem, you did warn. Well done Walt. 🙂
Thank you Veronica! Sometimes raw has more feeling than overdone!
The ashes of broken hearts color worlds gray. This is an excellent exploration, Walt.
Thanks Brenda. That’s me, Ponce De Leon with a pen!
Mirroring a tattered heart…I promise I didn’t steal that for my own. I guess that’s what happens when twelve words overlap one poem to the next…there’s bound to be some unintentional mirroring. 😉
Loved the phrase “treacherous precipice”. Excellent wordling, as always, Walt.
Like unintentional consequences, unintentional mirroring can elicit similar turns of phrase, Paula.
The problem with treacherous precipices is steering clear of the edge.
Heartbreak personified, Walt. It is sad, but nicely done.
Pamela
Sad, nicely done doesn’t seem so… hopeless, does it, Pamela? Thanks for that.
Yes – gray does indeed paint with a broad brush (as you replied to Hen) – don’t I know it – but I agree with Pamela too – it’s sad enough but it’s also very nicely done…there’s something propitious about that last line, undeniably
http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2013/01/where-church-bells-chime-all-day.html
The ending is kind of funny, Walt. Which is somehow redeeming.
I like this line best: “his vast emotions had skirted the edge of rationale”
Wonderful landscape you have created, but those are the chances we all take when it comes to love. Someone always has to get that damned short straw,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/01/27/according-to-the-ratings/
This is soooo you! I love how all the words fit in perfectly.
Thanks Sara. Hard to find words that are soooo me lately! 😉