The Hand that Takes the Picture

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Wed, 17 Jun 2015
  • 2648 reads
14 comments
 
All floral frock and seamed stockings,
shaded by a tree, where the sun sought you out –
smiling; a cat, cradled in your arms.
At your feet, a bag...perhaps
 
a lipstick...a compact....a ration book therein, 
and the telegram...the one you’d never talk about, 
but kept underneath the clock that didn’t go,
by the window in your bedroom.
 
Behind you – a house on a soft-shuttered,
Sunday afternoon, maybe.  The wind
lifting your hair has lost its stale stench – snatched  
from the laboured breath of the maimed, 
the dead and the dying
 
and this - you...silvered molecules; frozen,
freeze-framed... spared the bigger picture, immune
from the crassitude of the scene, by the flick
of a photographer’s finger,
 
leaving you remembering this moment as glass 
remembers silica, as a moth – its chrysalis,
and every dog – its day.
Certificate 12
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Silver Spun Sand Poems
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Comments

Submitted by catherine poarch on

You are so good at the small detail and suggesting the iceberg underneath the tip. I liked all of it but especially the dog day at the end.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you catherine, so very much.

Tina

 

Submitted by Deliberately Ev... on

I agree you are fantastic at picking out all the details. Lovely poem.

The beat of your heart is the mellifluent rhythm to my soul.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Ae - much appreciated. 

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Intriguing definition of a photo – silvered molecules; frozen, freeze-framed. and the nudge towards the memories it can bring back of so much more – as a moth – its chrysalis, of the scene and the history before and after the frozen moment. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Many thanks to you, Rhiannon.  The photograph itself wrote the poem, and, indeed, memories of the intriguing lady herself; ever the enigma.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

The picture tells a big story, love how you caught the moment and froze it at the end. I was fascinated by the ambiguity of the ending. Could mean a sharply remembered moment, or as the glass, moth and dog - possibly not remembered... Too much thinking, I know. 

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

You caught my drift, exactly, Bee...so you carry on with that thinking of yours.  Inspired, as ever.

Tina

 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Tina

This is a lovely poem - telling a story with all the restrained emotions.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Jean, so very much.

Tina

 

Submitted by Frances Macaula... on

'Crassitude' - such a telling word.  Sums up everything the poem is saying and reiterating the photographer's role - his 'flick', leaving this memory...   Very clever, Tina.  

Beautifully wraught as always. 

Soundcloud:  https://soundcloud.com/search?q=FrancesMF

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Many thanks, Frances.  Good of you to pop by, and I hope life is treating you kindly.

Tina

 

Submitted by EB on

Skillful write.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

EB...indebted to you. Thanks, so muchsmiley