HavanaCat is painting up a storm

Unite the world through sharing poetry (read all 7 entries…)

One from me...  — 1 year ago

I wrote this today, in a blue mood I guess. But I wanted to share the melancholy of lost love. It’s something we can all relate to, and it stings us all, no matter who we are and where we’ve been.

Rewinding Memories

Molly ambushes yesterday’s news
From her hideout under the deck
Sprawls over now forgotten headlines
Then leaps sideways as they sweep off
Into the neighbour’s forsythia
To shroud it like a half-finished Christo.

I watch your sleet-starched shirt
From the kitchen window
Flapping a staccato semaphore
A message I imagine you’re sending me
From wherever it is you’ve gone.

I go back, press rewind, then play
And gorge on your face
Pause, and freeze a close up
Of my last kiss
The one you blew me from the stage
I cannot yet bring myself
To listen
To your voice.

Comments:

lesleyegg is eating a strange fruit diet

This is an interesting poem

as it moves from out there to inside, and there is movement then stillness, so lots of contrasts.

It reads well.
First I thought it was about a performer, and you have a recording of him? singing, but then I realised that “the Stage” might not be literal. So it is all quite mysterious to the reader. Gone, but you have the shirt…

HavanaCat is painting up a storm

Hi Lesleyegg!

Thanks for commenting on my poem…I have never had anyone do that and it’s wonderful that you took the time to let me know what it meant to you. I wrote it as a companion to Unwinding Memories, the one I had published through TransPoetry. They both are about losing someone through death. I had in mind a woman who is still dealing with the unexpected death of her partner, who was most likely a guest speaker, a writer. And the stage is literal. Then, when I read it again, I remembered that my last love was (and still is, I hope) an amazing singer and I used to watch him perform on stage many times. Could I have subconsciously been thinking of him when I wrote it? I don’t think so…I had an older man in mind, with gray hair, and the shirt in my mind was a blue denim one like older ‘academics’ wear. Funny, but now I remember keeping some of my ex’s romantic and sweet voice mails when we were together, and after we broke up I erased them all, not being able to bear to listen to them. Well, isn’t this all so interesting? I do love it when life and art are so entangled.


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