Six a.m. His poem
insists on being finished;
at least, he thought it did.
At a table in the kitchen –
struggles to recall, what
it was he forgot, just
two minutes ago.
Lays down his pen – gazes
out the window; feels
a vague vibration. Behind
the row of rubescent,
copper beeches, and from
somewhere beyond
the hollyhock hills
drifts the whistle of a train.
But it’s not that; it’s her tread
on the telltale staircase
in the hall as, softly then,
she perches on the next
to bottom one...
her hair – falling, the way
it always does, across
one eye. Through a crack
in the door, he sees her –
all T-shirt and legs,
as she draws them up
to meet her chest; expectant
toes hug the edge
of the step, clench...
unclench – just like
last thing last night,
and can sense the scent
of sleep on her – interpret
in her yawn,‘Come back to bed’.
Poem...done.
Comments
fatboy74 | March 1, 2011 - 22:42
Hi Tina, I think you would have made a brilliant film director/cinematographer - I am sure visually you would have been able to capture moments in the same way you capture them with words. Whether this is a real memory or not, the way you draw out the detail of it, your use of commas - it just feels perfectly weighted...whoops rambling again. As you can probably tell I quite like this one. :-)
Silver Spun Sand | March 1, 2011 - 22:58
fb...you never ramble, or if indeed you consider your words 'ramblings', please feel free to 'ramble', as much as you like;-)
Seriously though, thanks again for noticing those 'little things', which always mean most, of course;-)
Tina
rjnewlyn | March 1, 2011 - 23:54
Yes, very good - the picture comes across very vividly. I don't suppose trains whistle any more now ... (not sure what the best word is for modern day train noise).
Rob
Dynamaso | March 2, 2011 - 01:49
Tina, I really don't know how you do it but you continually amaze me. Well done, again.
JoseHdz | March 2, 2011 - 05:38
agree w/Dynamaso. you write so much; so well. i am envious :) cheers on another great flowing poem.
jose.
Silver Spun Sand | March 2, 2011 - 09:42
Hi there, Rob. You sure is right about the trains and there 'modern-day' whistle. I spent hours with dear 'Roget', trying to find a better way to describe it, but in the end, I drew a blank. Maybe we should invent one;-)
Anyway, thanks for reading, and glad you enjoyed;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | March 2, 2011 - 09:42
Many thanks, Dynamaso. Have a good week;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | March 2, 2011 - 09:43
Jose - much appreciate your words. Thank you;-)
Tina
skinner_jennifer | March 2, 2011 - 13:12
Hi Tina,
I can relate to that first stanza, about forgetting
what it was that was to be written down, I think it
must be my age, it's amazing how quickly words can
go out of your mind if not written down quick enough.
Anyway I think you've definitely produced another
brilliant poem here. Congratulations on the cherries.
Jenny.
Silver Spun Sand | March 2, 2011 - 13:32
Thanks, Jenny. I know exactly what you mean about 'words'. No matter if you tell yourself a thousand times you are not going to forget a certain phrase,word or whatever, you still do;-)
Glad you enjoyed this one and thanks for your lovely words;-)
Tina
shoe | March 2, 2011 - 18:52
A evocative and vivid picture, really lovely.
ScoZen | March 4, 2011 - 13:20
Hey Sand Lady.
Is that Fulham supporter after extra time?
Final whistle I think!
Beeme | March 4, 2011 - 19:31
yes, described very vividly and I enjoyed this one greatly.
Beeme xx
Silver Spun Sand | March 5, 2011 - 13:39
;-) Could be, ScoZen...could very well be;-)
Sand Lady
Silver Spun Sand | March 5, 2011 - 13:39
Many thanks, Beeme. Have a great weekend;-)
Tina xx