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Posted

as my eyes closed i was at your funeral

where there were roses falling

through rain

 

beneath watery air

black umbrellas bloomed

like sordid flowers

sown from the opposite bank

of the dark and eternal river

which flows beside the pathway

of each life

 

and as the cold wind

grabbed my wrists in a painful clutch

i remembered your face

and how warm your eyes

used to be

 

i remembered how they would

watch me drinking red wine

from across rooms filled

with motion and laughter

 

i remembered how they would

secretly draw me in

and possess me

 

now i was watching

as they lowered you gently in to the ground

being mindful not to jar

or hurt you as they did so

 

a tender acquiescence

that i found beautiful and terrifying

 

across the cemetery

i noticed the deep, quiet green

of old fir trees against the purple

wash of low clouds

 

a water painting through the drizzle

 

and then i was alone with you

and the spattering of rain drops

upon fallen leaves

 

the white marble angels and virgins

around us seemed to stir suddenly

as i scattered red petals

into the earth

 

petals as red as the wine

we would drink together again

in rooms

filled with motion

and laughter...

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Posted

What a poignant piece. The interplay of present and recollection and imagery worked so well as if I was beside the Narrator.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

Posted

Thank you for your words and observations, JJ, much appreciated as always.

 

Douglas icon_smile.gif

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Posted

Douglas,

 

A rather perfect piece- Hard to capture emotions conveyed clearly through concrete images- Read like a poignant movie, sad and yet, through memory- redemptive- Quite a wonderful poem- Much impressed...

 

DC

Posted

Everything the narrator sees, feels, and remembers can be felt by the reader, from the black umbrellas which bloomed/like sordid flowers (indicating a presence of other mourners) right up to that most personal moment of grief:

and then i was alone with you

and the spattering of rain drops

upon fallen leaves

... the moment one must bear alone.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

Posted

dr. con, (see blush on my face here)

 

thank you so much for your really lovely compliment. when i consider who is commenting, i am humbled indeed! i am glad you 'saw' the poem. i am returning to my more visual style and am glad it is translating and intermingling with the emotion that i am attempting to convey and preserve through words.

 

thanks so much - doug icon_lol.gificon_redface.gif

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Posted

dearest tony,

 

again, thank you so much for your wonderful comments! it is so good to have such good feedback from such talented peers!

 

you, too seem to see and feel it all. that makes me very satisfied - i worked hard to get the balance, images, colours and communications of this poem just right for the reader.

 

thank you! icon_biggrin.png

To receive love, you have to give it...

Frank E Gibbard
Posted

Totally brilliant IMHO. One of the best on this subject I have seen Douglas.

Sad consoling and splendid expression of mourning. Frank

Frank E Gibbard
Posted

Dear Frank,

 

Thank you so very very much for your wonderful words, I echo what I wrote above - much appreciated!

 

Doug icon_biggrin.png

Posted

Hi Doug,

 

A couple of your poems lead me to different directions than what I anticipated from your titles. It's a good thing I'd say. Upon reading the title "Red Petals and Wine" I first thought about the romance but the poem turned out to be a lament. What a poignantly beautiful poem.

 

Thanks for the read.

 

Lake

Posted

a water painting through the drizzle

recalling your fingers dancing on canvas

my eyes still wet

rather watch the stars!

 

 

Douglas, truly great expression!

Aleksandra
Posted

douglas wrote:

 

i worked hard to get the balance, images, colours and communications of this poem just right for the reader.

 

 

And that's right Douglas. The poem has the balance, images, colours, and everything what makes the poem beautiful.

 

Amazing write Doug.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

Posted

dearest lake, bloodyday and alex!

 

thank you all very very much for the encouraging, positive comments and feedback!

 

as always, it is very much appreciated with great gratitude...

 

douglas icon_biggrin.png

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