Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Still Life in Early January



Still Life in Early January


Your long dead face
stares from its dusty boundaries
companioning the fluid smile
of life beside it.

Seven candles guard the waypoints,
bridge the river floating
the boat of the dead
out of a heart shaped shadow

abandoned territory
so long deserted there are
no inhabitants left
even in the grave.

Above the china pine
tomorrow's postcard pinned high
calls the eye to
read it one more time.



January 2012


Posted for real toads prompt The Art of Assemblage

Assembled from a list of articles in the room I write in, framed family photos, candles, figurines and postcards. 







21 comments:

  1. Nobody but you Hedge...
    One minute old memories and pressed flora...
    The next minute jet skiing down the River Styx!
    You got a lot going on up there M'Lady.

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  2. I'll take that as a compliment, G. And don't worry, I already have a nice morbid 55 racked up for you.

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  3. I got such a sense of your personal space as I read this, Joy, and it is infused with a deep sense of peace, of past ans present living hand in hand, of quietude.

    My mind's eye is particularly drawn to the 7 seven candles guarding the waypoints, and the postcard whose words I'll never read.

    Beautiful

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  4. Your poem had such a flow about it~ I too am intrigued by the 7 candles and the postcard I'll never read. It was quite the journey; I truly enjoyed it~ Well Done

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  5. The image reminds me of one of my favorite types of educational introduction books. Specifically a children's book about Egypt where the info is presented as a journal documenting a researcher's trip. It comes with artifacts such as travel tickets, and other documents that gives an imaginative reader a chance to thrive in a learning setting where they might otherwise be added to the other tragic tales of children whose scholastic life was doomed and sentenced to death, before it even had a chance to live.

    How many children's scholastic life would be resurrected if they were encouraged or knew that they were allowed to use there unalienable wings of their imagination to go ahead and fly, or even swim if they chose to be penguin. Swimming is also a form of flight in some contextes

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  6. Haunting with the dustiness of the past.

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  7. nice...floating
    the boat of the dead
    out of a heart shaped shadow...nice contrast in those two images hedge....reading tomorrow's post card as well is itself very interesting...nice piece...

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  8. Oh, Hedge. By the time I read the second stanza, I knew I was reading something special, and I even thought to myself, "this is poetry, this is what it should be." But as I read the rest of the poem, it knocked my Inner Pedant right off her stool, and I was left with pure emotion, and tears. I think I'll leave it at that, because to pick apart lines and phrases would be a disservice to this writing.

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  9. this feels like you allow us to sit next to you and you show us bits and pieces of your life, wrapped in a little mystery which comes from the emotions the things stir in you...

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  10. I loved this tiny glimpse into your inner sanctum.

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  11. Thanks all--very glad I was able to come up with something for this cool prompt of Ella's.

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  12. "heart shaped shadow" - what a companion that is.

    The flow from beginning to end and how the end flows into the beginning...a poetic round or should that be a poetic surround? Just beautiful, hedgewitch.

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  13. oh, such beautiful words from a place of hurt. beautiful. i love your use of the word "companioning," it's perfect.

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  14. Memory is what keeps the dead from oblivion, but as that fades, so much quicker the lost until there are relics like this -- all that's left, almost a ghost on this side as well. As FB gushed the poem is exquisitely constructed -- to say more you would do a disservice to the art of losing -- and buttons with the roteness of the duty which we never quite give up. - Brendan

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  15. Strong writing, filled with some mysteries; but you share just enough to intrigue me. Contemplating this image of desolation:

    "abandoned territory
    so long deserted there are
    no inhabitants left
    even in the grave."

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  16. There is mystery here that leaves me asking for more...such a great piece!

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  17. The third stanza is absolutely amazing:
    "so long deserted there are
    no inhabitants left
    even in the grave"
    Such a wonderful description.
    K

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  18. hmm. this breathes, has a soul I think. :) I must agree with everyone above.

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  19. I appreciate, too, the way a world (or underworld) opens up from what is found in a room. I have always been inspired by closed possibilities, and what can open up from them in the imagination. Of course that is what you do so well, here and always.

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  20. I love the calm sense of peace and the tone of acceptance and inner knowledge. Lovely piece.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg