Powder frosts the window
of concave glass;
in front of the maple
stood the form-
a memory swells in twilight
and life is as I know it;
but if Jae walked in,
there would be
under the paint,
a smile christened in the joists,
missing fingerprints
on the door frame that found mine;
pages of history we hardly shared
knifing music that pierced through
the abandoned gate of my soul;
no spoons on oatmeal Mondays
footfalls down the hall
curtains that only blow the name
through harvest wind
and a hidden thicket where left is
a final cry from the thornbird's song,
soothed, at last, impaled.
In a list
Comments
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the frosts are screaped like the years in what must be paper thin chronicles of yearnings. It reminds me of seeing these frozen sparrows outside when I am nice and warm, and there it is, surviving torment, hence the thornbird.
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BRAVO!!
This is like a snapshot of both the sadness felt after the loss of someone close and how the one left behind sees signs of that person live on, in the simple things in life, from routine to object.
If we take for example the 'fingerprints', 'maple' and the 'oatmeal' and then consider time itself shown through the 'footfalls' and even the shear absence of the one that's passed and the music listened to then, we can see that all is memory and feel each echo of the heart and it's sadness.
Personally I think the final verse, shows the one that remains gathering their thoughts and memories back together tidily, and returning their mind away from bygone days back to the here and now in their struggle to continue onwards...
A beautifully written piece, that I was drawn to read several times so as to hopefully not miss any of its poignant detail. Very emotive and intense in imagery, well done Poet!!Thankyou for sharing this masterpiece with us... A great poem to analyse/learn from...
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How grateful I am of your generous commenting. It nearly 'sequels' the poem itself. Intuitively, perhaps due to experience, you have found one of my ghosts that cleverly visits on specific days.
Bless you and thank you so much again.
Warmly, Dianne/CookieZ
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I like the lines,
"missing fingerprints
on the door frame that found mine."
It conveys tenderness and emotions and a sense of loss. The encounter was brief and left heartache in its wake. Though I feel that the ending is a tiny bit over done, I still think this is a very moving poem that deserves my respect!
Love you~ Joyce
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Always appreciated and considered. How so the ending? Give me an example resolve you would give
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very good
i like the spirit of this poem, a love poem of a kind and beautifully ornate and ephemeral, beaming with intelligent, beneficent imagination. almost too good to write about lol
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Your words are always more than words. Why is that? It is because when you wrap words in sentences they become a present to any reader. Here we are again at some place you've chosen to take us and we follow willingly. This time it is a visit that is almost a trespass, but never would be. You did leave us alone and curious, that was your intention. "no spoons on oatmeal Mondays" was my personal favorite. I'm not sure that most of our readers are up to this quality of verse. I know I am and long for more like it. RC
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Your comment:
"This time it is a visit that is almost a trespass, but never would be." You've hit it. The mundane ( oatmeal Mondays ) in a previous time and sphere has marked its indellible prints on the wall.And the writer (in the wall) knows that someone impressionable never left its bloodlet forever.
The Letters tell us of unrequited and unforgotten activity that definitely was for a future eye to find.
Thank you for adoring words, and mostly... the time it took to analyze and care.
CZ/Dianne
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Wow, that was beautiful. I really enjoyed reading it. Great write (:
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Soft Texturedness ...
with deep emotional attachment to the metaphoric expressions. This poem truly touched my soul in a profound way. It speaks of the beautiful sadness of departure ... and of timeless memories.
So very well written.
Love
Myra
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