Inspired by Jacob Lawrence's War Series No. 11

Ms. Haiku

Love was a chandelier with all candles
lit. We turned it around and danced as light
bounced off the walls. Love was scarves of red and
gold thrown in the air as we waltzed through rooms.
Love in the hallway mirror multiplied.
Love was seen crossing streets when afternoon
classes were through. Others ran the backyard
shortcuts. Love strolled the circuitous routes.
But love is just a word. Write it down and
throw it away. Write LOVE on paper and
tear it up. Better still, write LOVE in your
best handwriting then watch flames consume it.
Sorrow is not a finely drawn line but
a broad brush stroke. The paint has not dried, yet.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Originally posted by Bibliobella
Love was a chandelier with all candles
lit. We turned it around and danced as light
bounced off the walls. Love was scarves of red
and gold thrown in the air as we waltzed through rooms.
Love in the hallway mirror multiplied.
Love was seen crossing streets when afternoon
classes were through. Others ran the backyard
shortcuts. Love strolled the circuitous routes.
But love is just a word. Write it down and
throw it away. Write LOVE on paper and
tear it up. Better still, write LOVE in your
best handwriting then watch flames consume it.
Sorrow is not a finely drawn line but
a broad brush stroke. The paint has not dried, yet.

I appreciate the anaphoric repetition of "love" which as a word applied in a litany of images is clanged purposely to overreach and thus interrogate its own claims to ubiquity. Also, I like your use of the conventional volta or thematic turnaround in line nine, with "But love": The word LOVE is objectified and immolated. Where "Love" had in the poem's octet occupied the privileged grammatical position as subject at the start of each sentence, by the sestet its position is negated and the word "sorrow" supplants it. However, the position of "sorrow" is uncertain too, isn't it?

Thank you for this.

Ms. Haiku

Hi, you're right. The first 8 lines love had life and movement. Then love just became 4 letters in the dictionary. If you saw the painting by Jacob Lawrence it portrays a woman who is weeping over a man she lost in WWII. Sorrow is not uncertain in this poem. I didn't mean for it to be uncertain. The death of love in her life caused real sadness and pain. Very moving painting -bold brush strokes.
Thanks for your feedback!

Mr Pyjama

Hey, this is great, one of those pieces you can just keep looking back at and keep appreciating. It really is wonderful.