How do you lookwhen you look out the window
lost in thought
a private moment
worthy of oil and canvas
How do you hold your cup
when the coffee is fresh
and the morning milking
turns adolescent
I'd like to know
how you fold a towel
and make the bed;
of the clothes you style
and their chosen care
hues and textures too
I want to know
how your cistern eyes
reflect the rain
when the porch is empty
and the trees wave green
And I want to know
how you chap an apron
when the stove warms with intent
and the bed still traces your absence
I want to know how you hold
a book and turn the pages;
how your lips part
when sighs are whispered
and sighs are taken
I want to know how your fingers trace
the geography of pain
when the clouds are pregnant
with indigo rain
I want to smell the bounce in your hair
to know the hope in your posture
the strength in your bearing
the confidence in your walk
when feet are bare and the day is ours
One day, perhaps
just so you know
I've got a list
that continues to grow
14 comments:
Wow, I'm almost speechless. This poem is worth putting the story on the back burner for just a bit. I appreciate your use of visual words. Something I need to try more in my own work.
Bel, you are making me blush now and I'm not even thinking of flaming petals. :-D
Thank you for the very kind words. Always appreciated. :-)
awww....
This is so recognizable to me...that longing for the one you have fallen for, yet are only able to experience the absolute bliss and horrific agony for wanting.
--snow
I quite simply love this.
A sequence of canvases, replete, awash with vivid colour and aesthetic detail, animated scenes traced bolder for every word. I had this very clear image of moving slowly, walking, from one to the other, heels echoing on the cold stone floor, pillars breaking the scene opposite, there, known, but not seen, of moving upon the next as it forms, a story in the telling and still to be told, moments embodied and still to be, and of all the things that can be perceived, learned and understood and known, in the unspoken, gestures, poise, movements individual. This is what you have written of so beautifully, individuality and the little things, that allow us to recognize and to know another, the intricacies of character and the endless voyage that another's heart, mind and soul can offer if the sails are set to destination. Spieling here, but such is the touching quality of this poem as to cause it. Perception and insight, it is really quite extraordinary how much can be told merely by observing. So touching is the tone, the wish expressed to know and the simplicity of the choices. Quintessentially beautiful.
Snow, I would also say these same things can be said of someone we've lived with for a long time, the little things we have failed to noticed, inured by life's diurnal trials and the filter of the familiar. Somehow, in time, we have the capacity to lose vision, as if the mind's eye becomes cloudy and yet we don't know it.
Glad to have you back. Hot chocolate for you. :-D
Ms Storm, I thought you might. :-D
You know, I think we need a blog just for your comments. Or perhaps an additional wing to the cottage. ;-)
I enjoy reading Ms Storm's comments because of her insights. Ms Storm, you could teach a course on reading prose and poetry.
Smiling from ear to ear at that comment, thank you most kindly, Bel.Ishtar.
Ms Storm,
I meant every word. Thanks, Trée for letting me use your phone, I mean, blog to talk to her.
No problem Bel. The door to my blog is always open. Just make your way through the beads and lava lamps to the bean bag chairs. :-D
I WAS sighing from the words of this poem. Now I am laughing thinking about navigating my way through your beads and lava lamps to your bean bag chair.
There has to be a funky decanter set around there too. And fondu.
Seriously though, the poem was wonderful.
Thanks Jen. And there is always a bean bag just for you, near the fondu pot. :-D
The image spoke to me before I read the poem. I had a sense of time slipping away and being unable to catch it.
Cléa, you've been missed and you remain in my thoughts and prayers. I wish my hugs could be more than virtual.
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