Sunday hues

This afternoon wears my sadness
in her palest eyes of Sunday blues
she said she’s not a languid Friday,
with arms stretched out in forever
she is the ending of infinity
the beginning of an end
she huddles from the cold,
she is a dancer in slow motion, falling
and her smile is thin and weak
like a vacancy sign on a derelict hotel,
an empty bed
she curls up on the couch next to me
instead of you
and washes me in her bleak view
this afternoon, she feels ominous


Image “Let’s talk about Sunday”


68 thoughts on “Sunday hues

  1. Ah, my dearest R, I missed your beautiful words so much.

    This afternoon wears my sadness..
    she curls up on the couch next to me
    instead of you
    and washes me in her bleak view
    this afternoon, she feels ominous

    I read and I stopped breathing. There are no words to describe the beauty and the depth of your words: “her smile is thin and weak”
    It’s sadness. It really is. But above her it is your talent that makes us feel.

    “she is the ending of infinity” Perhaps. Yet she is also the core of one of the most beautiful poems I’ve read.

    Sending you hugs and plenty of love, my dear. Let me know if I can send you chocolates too.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Dear G. Your words are like a warm hand placed on my arm. I cannot tell you in words what it feel like to get such praise and understanding from you, or how grateful I am. This is the biggest gift, and chocolates as well, wow. Thank you xoxoxo

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s difficult to read a magnificent piece dripping with pain when to some extent you know or feel who is behind. As much as I tried to be objective and look at the poem for what it is, I could not help to think that you suffered. That hurt. It still does.
        I am here, R.
        Love and hugs to you.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Honestly, you have moved me to tears with this, but that is because I am humbled by your care and kindness. Please do not worry about me, I am ok, I didn’t mean to make this poem so sad, I guess I just wrote it at one of those emotional moments. Your support means so much. Thank you, dear G


  2. Feels like those times one realizes everything one thought was real, might not be… “she curls up on the couch next to me / instead of you” — this image of self, divided; retracting from outside world, and from love. 😭💔

    May she reach toward forever again, arms forming infinity… and cradling Self — and the world — within. ∞ 💗

    Liked by 3 people

    1. “May she reach toward forever again, arms forming infinity… and cradling Self — and the world — within”

      Arms forming forever, linked in a figure 8, an infinity sign intertwined… I felt like you not only understood this poem but added depth and beauty to it. Gosh, that is so beautiful, and has touched me deeply. Thank you, I am so humbled. ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Sunday blues are indeed infinitely more bleak than the Monday ones, at least on Monday you have to get up, and away from the unwelcome company of those hues that linger on the couch or in the empty bed.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I know what you mean…when Sunday afternoons stretch interminably long and loneliness is a blanket you are too weak to shrug off! I felt as if someone walked over my grave! Love this one, Rachel. ❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My dear friend, thank you for this beautiful comment “when loneliness is a blanket you’re too weak to shrug off” . Exactly, that is exactly what Sunday afternoons are like sometimes. Thank you ❤️❤️


  5. Well someone dislikes Sunday 😂

    I adore this line *-* ‘she is the ending of infinity’
    There isn’t supposed to be an end, but there always is. ❤❤
    I got from the poem that Sunday had had a sad event, and with every anniversary of it, it recalls all the ugly.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. This entire poem gives me chills. The image of “a vacancy sign on a derelict hotel” especially has a feeling all its own. I can see such a thing vividly, and that one image alone presents a world of material to explore. The same is true for “ending of infinity,” as the previous commenter noted, as that’s such a neat little paradox. Truly a complex web of a poem that fires the imagination.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. David, I am blown away by this response, I feel so privileged to receive your interpretations and thoughts on my poetry, and although i do not want to give people chills or make them sad, I guess that if they feel something, anything, then the poem resonated, and that to me is so meaningful. I’m glad you liked the hotel vacancy sign metaphor. I nearly didn’t include this as I wasn’t happy with the melody of how the words actually sounded, but the image itself felt ‘righf.’

      Thank you, so much 💕

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome 🙂! The privilege is mine, that of reading your work. I’m glad you included that image after all, as I agree it is very right for the poem. I also agree that any emotional response is a sign that the poem resonated because it proves that the reader was engaged enough to care. The ability to inspire an emotional response of any kind requires skill and effort, and you succeed wonderfully.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. its what someone once described to as “a day” and some days are just like that, though it reads with sadness its a languid feeling of just being part of something we cannot change or run from and by doing so become stronger from just being. being lonely fires the soul and prepares the heart for better things. hope you are well my dear, i am having a huge helping of your poetry tonight, exactly what this soul needs

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love this interpretation. Sunday afternoons are Sunday afternoons right, so you may as well stretch out with them on the couch and use the time to recuperate and prepare for Monday.

      It makes me very happy and feel very humbled if you are reading my writing. You are one of my favourite authors so it means so much that you enjoy my work ❤️🌺

      Liked by 1 person

  8. So very moving Rachel!
    I feel very much as if you have invited us to sit with you, looking at that wonderful sea view, a winter sea, coffee cup in hand, and these words are ESPed between us.
    Achingly beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I really love this, sometimes what one writes is fiction but sometimes there is peace expressing yourself through your ink. I hope now you are doing good

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I agree with you 💯. Yes, fiction still comes from a place inside us, and if I’m honest, even my most fictional writes have my own feelings in them. Poetry is like that I think… And yes, it brings peace to express how we feel in our ink. I feel such warmth and care in your words, thank you.


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