The Sorrow Tugs

by Edgar Guest

There’s a lot of joy in the smiling world;
there’s plenty of morning sun
and laughter and songs and dances, too,
whenever the day’s work’s done;
full many an hour is a shining one,
when viewed by itself apart,
but the golden threads in the warp of life
are the sorrow tugs at your heart

Oh, the fun is froth and it blows away,
and many a joy’s forgot,
and the pleasures come and the pleasures go,
and memory holds them not;
but treasured ever you keep the pain
that causes your tears to start,
for the sweetest hours are the ones that bring
the sorrow tugs at your heart.

The lump in you throat and the little sigh
when your baby trudged away
the very first time to the big red school–
how long will their memory stay?
The fever days and the long black nights
you watched as she, troubled, slept
and the joy you felt when she smiled once more–
how long will that all be kept?

The glad hours live in a feeble way,
but the sad ones never die.
His first long trousers caused a pang
and you saw them with a sigh.
And the big still house when the boy and girl,
unto youth and beauty grown,
to college went; will you e’er forget
that first grim hour alone?

It seems as you look back over things,
that all that you treasure dear
is somehow blent in a wondrous way
with a heart pang and a tear.
Though many a day is a joyous one
when viewed by itself apart,
the golden threads in the warp of life
are the sorrow tugs at your heart.

From his book A Heap O’ Livin’
© 1916 by the Reilly & Britton Co.

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Breaking the Land

It’s time for another Friday Fictioneers post and today’s prompt inspired me with a poem of sorts. Many thanks to our patient and inspiring host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, for shepherding our FF group through green pastures teeming with tales, and to Danny Bowman for the challenging prompt. I see the various muses have been productive even given this barren landscape to write about.

Speaking of productive, I’m delighted to tell you all that my book is published and now live on Amazon! (Fireworks and cartwheels 🙂 )  Silver Morning Song is a collection of poems, short stories and fables. I plan to publish it on Kobo as well; I’ll likely spend today doing that, plus setting up an Author Account on Amazon and generally telling the world. And as all authors will say, I’d really appreciate reviews. 🙂

On to today’s prompt:

Right now we seem to be in a world of unprecedented water and storms; eighty years ago it was unprecedented drought. I’ll dedicate this verse to all the poor inexperienced homesteaders who came to these Great Plains and were advised to deep-plough their fields every fall. Took the ‘Dirty Thirties’ to prove agricultural advisers of the day so wrong. Farmers today practice “no till” farming.

PHOTO © Danny Bowman

BREAKING THE LAND

We said we’d break this land
with hope and bare essentials.
Our ploughs cut deep
furrows across its face —
then we couldn’t catch it.

The wind owns this land,
had we only known!
Tore the dirt from our fields,
dumped it five miles east,
then threw it back at us
in the next west wind.
Our seed grain went with it;
clear to oblivion.

The land froze us in winter,
baked us in summer,
dried us like tumbleweeds in fall
and the wind blew us away.
Through long ragged years
tried to break this land,
‘til the land broke us.

The Journey that Makes You Kind

Struck out

Struck out!

To the victorious:
the ribbons, the cheers,
the flush of accolades.

To the defeated
who’ve also run the race:
the pain, the tears.

Remember, my son
those who’ve tried and failed;
walk a mile in their shoes.
The journey will make you kind.

C.G.

From my upcoming book, Silver Morning Song

You Can’t Borrow Love

SOMETHING BORROWED

“Something old and something new,” Marielle said as she did up the buttons on the bodice of her gown. “But everything I have on is new. I just can’t think of anything old to add.”

“Well, I can,” said her mother, pulling a small bag out of her pocket. “I brought along one of my grandma’s brooches. Let me pin it right here at your shoulder.”

“Now I need something borrowed and something blue.”

“Something borrowed….that’s your groom,” said Treena.

Marielle heard her mother gasp and saw the glare she shot at Treena. Her sister had been trying for a humorous note, but there was an unmistakable jab to her words.

Marielle sighed. She supposed Treena was only echoing what everyone was thinking. Marielle lifted her chin in defiance against the gossips. Okay. So she had caught Kirk on the rebound. Renee had dumped him for a richer, better-looking guy. But Marielle had always liked Kirk and she’d made herself available when he needed a shoulder to cry on. Before long he was returning her affections, then he’d proposed.

Marielle’s mind went back to the evening she and Kirk announced their engagement to her family. Treena had been sour from the get-go. She’d been less than forthcoming with her congrats and after he’d gone home, Treena had come to her room to talk her out of her plans.

“Can’t you see the obvious, sis? Kirk has been hurt and he may be doing this to spite Renee, but I’m sure he still has feelings for her — if he’d just admit it.”

“So. I’m going to make Kirk so happy he’ll forget Renee even exists. I love Kirk.”

“Love him as a sweetheart, or love him as a pet project?”

Marielle had scowled at her sister and ordered her out of the bedroom. No one was going to rain on her parade.

She brushed Treena’s snippy remark aside and admired Great-Grandma’s brooch. What happened before doesn’t matter, she told herself for the nth time. I’m going to make Kirk so happy. I’m going to love him so much he’ll forget any feelings he ever had for Renee.

“I borrowed my bridesmaid’s toe ring. And my corsage has a blue ribbon around it. So I’m all set. Let’s be off.”

The next half hour whizzed by; soon she was walking up the aisle beside her father to take her place by her groom. Kirk wore a big happy smile as he turned to watch her approach. Perhaps it looked a little forced, a little too bright, but Marielle was confident that his joys would soon be as real as hers.

A couple of hours later they were standing beside the reception table receiving congratulations from an elderly family friend when, out of the corner of her eye, Marielle saw Renee approach. She was alone. What happened to Mr Rich Hunk, Marielle wondered.

Renee paused not far away and gazed at Kirk, a look of regret on her face. Marielle glanced at Kirk and saw the same expression written on his face as he returned Renee’s gaze. All three of them froze for a moment, then Kirk turned back to her again.

She saw a quick flash of remorse in his eyes, then his too-bright smile fell in place again. But in that brief unguarded glance, Marielle recognized the truth.

She’d just make the biggest mistake of her life. You really can’t borrow love.

I posted this story last year on Christine Composes. It’s a bit depressing compared to my usual style, nevertheless true-to-life for some young women. I’m pondering whether to include it in my book.

(I see part of this post leaked out last night as I was scheduling it. Sorry about that.)