Friday, 8 October 2010

four thoughts

white doves
above the steeple,
imploring bells not to chime.
such stark empty rooms
there are no curtains
at the windows
and everyone
can see

Silence settles on me like snowfall
I feel the heft of its weight subdue me
its heavy patchwork shawl, thrown
a blanket, intricately woven with beads

Tucked into my pocket
lies the letter you wrote
fumbling words and good intentions
moulded you, an inadvertent poet
the simplicity of your words shone
every sentence brimming
with the essence of you

Life is a bowl, swirling with water, never touching the sides,
cold hard porcelain reflecting light, absorbing life, it lets me go...
and the yellow lined path, does not lead to the mountain top, but to
blind alleys, back streets and a cold grey house with a faded blue door.
The dug hole, deeper than before, nearer than the ticking clock that waits.
and the mornings come, and the mornings go, and the phone refuses to ring.

- Susannah Bec 2010


Mary said...

Beautiful writing, Susannah. If I had to choose a favorite, it would be #3. Seemed especially warm and real to me!

Susannah said...

Hello Mary, good to see you here.

Yes, I agree with you about the warmth, perhaps it offsets the the more desolate tone of the others.

Thanks very much for reading and for your comment, much appreciated. :-)

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Beautiful beautiful beautiful writing! One can FEEL the silence. I especially love the nine white doves and the uncurtained windows. Well done.

Susannah said...

Sherry, thanks so much for reading and for your comments, they are always appreciated. x

Fireblossom said...

Look what you've done here. The format is unusual but I really like it. Not only are there four (almost) separate sections in one poem, but the very shapes of the stanzas on the page suggest part of their meaning.

I love that you numbered the doves. "Nine white doves" is just so much stronger, somehow, than just "white doves", plus the numerological sognificance of nine, which denotes an ending.

The letter is beautifully described, and then from that into the cold shock of the grave and diminishing unstoppable time.

This is brilliant.

Deborah said...

Oh my goodness, just a joy to read, your words are like music and I could listen all day! wonderful :o)

Gordon Mason said...

Great images here. Liked the imploration of the doves and the yellow lined path in particular.

Susannah said...

Fireblossom, I love your comment! thank you so much for your feedback it is much appreciated.

So good to see you here. :-)

Susannah said...

Deborah - thank you. ;-)

Susannah said...

Gordon, thank you very much for your visit and your comment, both are appreciated. It is good to meet you.

Anonymous said...

My fav is number two. Love and Light, Sender

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I got even more out of it the second time, Susannah. I love "life is a bowl swirling with water never touching the sides" The last stanza is especially powerful......the mornings come and the mornings go..........fantastic writing! Whew!

be not blind said...

Really good writing! All four are great but I really like the third one as well. Also, I very much enjoyed 'Porous'. Good stuff.

Susannah said...

Thanks everyone, I really appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. :-)

be not blind, good to see you! :-)

Michaela said...

Reading your text I see someone standing in front of a faded blue door. A tiny person in front of a large faded blue door. Uncertain, raised the hand.. will she knock?

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