Retracing the steps of yesterday's pleasure
I find myself stumbling
a torment to measure
each kiss
to taste the sadness of our parting--
the ghosts
the points of our laughter
Is it to know too much?
Touch me ghosts that I may know
WHY
it is too much
to unwind the dreamland begun at my doorstep
the sweet smell of that dream
at my doorstep
to sleep in the bed of my happiness
with the pain of my coming home
Can I settle for this?
My coming home without my happiness
coming home
looking out the window of my coming home
the purple haze that floats over sorrow
your misty breath alone remains
a whisper of tomorrow
Author notes
Written while flying home after visiting the woman who became my wife.
A contest entry
- Show your love by Sonya-Erasmus.
550 points, ended October 23, 19 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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An endearing haunt of love
I like the way the middle stanza here ties the first and the last together. The "haunt" of love here is precious and one to be cherished. The imagery of senses here is very endearing, "to taste the sadness of our parting", "the sweet smell of that dream at my doorstep", "your misty breath alone remains the whisper of tomorrow". This poem has impact, and leaves a lasting impression. After the travesty of my contest, I am so glad to see you with the silver trophy. It was meant to be afterall, and you are most deserving. Congratulations.
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to unwind the dreamland begun at my doorstep
the sweet smell of that dream
at my doorstep
to sleep in the bed of my happiness
with the pain of my coming home
the rhythm and repetition of this piece is melodic and sad like echoes of memory. i can relate to this.
it is good to read you this morning.
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The secret is that this poem is a revision of one that I wrote 45 years ago. I found it in a notebook that I was about to throw away. I had never shown it to anyone except my wife. It was written on a plane after falling in love during a visit to Indiana University. I would guess that it was only the second poem that I ever wrote. You are right, these are definite "echoes." Bill
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what a lovely story. i like it when i stumble upon something i have written long ago and hadn't read since. it is like accessing a memory yet even more potent because the freshness of those thoughts and feelings are preserved in ink.
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This is very touching and hauntingly beautiful.
I love the lines
'looking out the window of my coming home
the purple haze that floats over sorrow
your misty breath alone remains
the whisper of tomorrow'
Thanks so much for sharing and best of luck in the contest.
Kind regards
Sonya
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