Cold Call
By Philip Sidney
- 4707 reads
I hang wet sheets on the line
and they slap me -
they struggle in the spring air
so I leave them with the resilient daffodils,
the colour of unhealthy eyes,
to drink coffee so scalding
my tongue swells and I slur
when I answer the phone
to the cold caller
who asks if I have made my will.
I doodle a cactus on an envelope
and recall that shaft of light that fell
on my mother’s coffin
and her meagre belongings
spread over the best tablecloth
for mourners to choose
their own momento.
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Comments
The everyday process of
The everyday process of remembering brought movingly to life in this lovely poem, our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day. Congratulations! Please share/retweet if you've enjoyed it.
Picture: http://tinyurl.com/lc4e6k2
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An individual and very
An individual and very effective Mother's Day poem, Phil.
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Beautiful, PS. Just beautiful
Beautiful, PS. Just beautiful.
Rich x
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very beautiful Philip, I like
very beautiful Philip, I like the way you capture the natural trigger and process of memories, like the sparse style every moment and detail is amplified for it. loved 'resilient daffodils,the colour of unhealthy eyes' lovely work
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I liked the turn to llitte
I liked the turn to llitte 'stuff' left behind. A few momentoes, hopefully recalling good memories in abundance, which is the good thing to be able to leave, and 'treasure in heaven' of faith. Rhiannon
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yeh, you've caught it. Not
yeh, you've caught it. Not sure what, but something special
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Hi Helen
Hi Helen
I just loved this from the slapping wet sheets to the momementos from your Mother. Recently my granddaughter, just turned 12, was given the gold bracelet that I gave her mother when she was 12, that my mother gave me when I was 12. My daughter asked me where my mother had got it, and I didn't know. So much we miss out on, because we didn't think to ask.
Jean
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