Here Are Things

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By Ewan

Thu, 07 Jun 2018
  • 7455 reads
20 comments
 

A photograph,

he looks like me,

though in monochrome;

an image produced

from celluloid

now cracked

in a paper-sleeve.

 

A yellow-metal watch,

he used to wear,

on special occasions,

long past the time

he could

tell it,

or the day of the week.

 

A military tie,

now I have two,

though mine is newer

and I didn’t buy it;

not worn in years,

like his,

kept against the day.

 

Here are things:

they were his,

they are mine,

they aren’t him.

Certificate U
Poem
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Shannan on

... we are born with naught and leave with naught, and our belongings will never offer the love the human did...

Blessings for your journey, sorry for your loss, but pleased for the inspiration and creativity and love the tale offers :) 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

for dropping by. There are no pockets in a shroud. Possessions are just things it's true, but as I get older I suspect the greatest value of "things" is sentimental.
Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

The passing on of things - it's a rite of passage, and simply and beautifully expressed here. 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

trying to make sense of it, to be honest. How do you say goodbye, when someone's already gone?

Thanks for reading and commenting
Ewan

 

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Kat027 on

This poem is poignant and wistfully sad. So true how things we leave behind can be both a source of comfort and an amplification of our loss! Ending is simply a bit of genius! 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

kind to say so, but a glimpse of genius at the edge of the screen is the best I can hope for.
Thanks very much for your comments.

Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Pat G on

Perfectly-constructed portrait of an emotion that is usually too blurred.to capture.

Submitted by Ewan on

you are very kind.

Ewan

 

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by socialeaf on

This is brilliant. The broad strokes used around the 'things' recall the owner, somehow quite vividly, and yet that last stanza reminds the reader that he simply isn't there at all. To me, this is magical and very sad. Thank you for sharing. 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

if you'd asked me 10 years ago about the cathartic benefits of writing, I'd have laughed in your face. How wrong can one be? I suppose the point is it enables you (me, one etc.) to take your feelings outside and examine them, turning them over to see which parts catch the light.
Thanks very much for reading and commenting.

Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by celticman on

our belonging define us, but don't belong to us. 

 

Submitted by Ewan on

Jack, As true as ever was.
Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Beautiful, Ewan. If the things speak to you, they're priceless. Everything else is just stuff.

Submitted by Ewan on

absolutely it.
"Everything else is just stuff."

Thanks for reading and commenting,

Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

This touching poem is our facebook and twitter pick of the day.  Do share if you like it too.

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

This is our poem of the week!

Submitted by Di_Hard on

First you show us the person you remember but at the end you show the grief that everyone feels, on losing someone so close. The last stanza is like a cry. Or reminds me of when I cried.

 

Submitted by Ewan on

 having a thsving crsp time on ancient mobile with abctales think i÷ve POM-d myself in please. Get rid can ?

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Ewan on

 see phone rubbish for ABCTales!

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

you seem to be ok Ewan (as in not POM) - don't worry!