flipping through that old album-
which you had scotch-taped
so crudely after I tore it up in anger once-
I see the photographs haphazardly placed
a few taped so badly that it doesn't seem
quite so right to be there
yet I find a order in there
I learned early your way of working
and in someway or the other
I have followed the same path
with thoughts running faster than light
there never was any other way
when like you, my anger gets in midst
I stop, blanking out everything
closing myself in, listening to the
sane voices inside my head
and yours too, which never fail
to comfort me in my anguish
another torn photo stares up at me
you holding me, you rebel daughter
looking morosely at nothing
yet you beseechingly smile at the camera
your hand absently soothing me
I close the album, calmed as of now
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lately I have been thinking of my father. He has been gone for almost seven years and I still miss him.
28 comments:
Let me be the first to congratulate you on such an excellent poem. Marcel Proust wrote of how aromas took him to the past, for you it is photographs.
I enjoyed this!
Wonderful tribute.
when like you, my anger gets in midst
I stop, blanking out everything
closing myself in, listening to the
sane voices inside my head
and yours too, which never fail
to comfort me in my anguish
beautiful .. u have a way of telling the simplest things in most touching manner !! loved the write :)
Beautiful - as always.
Photos can be a powerful magnet reaching deep into the mystery of a heartbeat.
Beautiful, poetic thoughts.
Hi there.
Great work.
hope we can have a forum of sorts soon, to learn about the art of poetry and writing from one another.
Cheers.
I love reading your poetry. So descriptive, so emotional, so in the moment. Thank you.
The flow of memory is achingly poignant...
Splendid....a true masterpiece of sentiments I love this, very, very much!
Wonderful tribute. Just too good
Very special tribute.
The torn and taped photos form an unforgettable image in this poem, and layered with emotion.
Yesterday, while hastily inspecting a dead friend's soggy, foxed sheet music - the usual easy-piano pop stuff - spotted a yellowed setting of Whitman by Ralph Vaughn Williams titled "Toward the Unknown Region" - hinged with amber-brittle cellophane tape. The mouse-nibbled first page read:
Darest thou now O soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
I have always loved looking at photos from the past, present and also listening to those voices from outside and inward.
Well done.
Dear Gautami-
This touched me in some deep, still,scotch-taped part. You are a first-class story teller. Thank you for plying your trade and making it available to the world.
Really enjoyed KiteHorse's commentary-story as well. What an amazing verse.
Thank you--
Good point -- the past continues to speak to us!
This is such a beautiful, touching poem, so rich in memory and love and all the emotions woven and blended. Just lovely. The torn photo is such a perfect symbol and image and evokes many memories for me as well.
Beautiful write Guatami - one that I relate to - my father is just recently gone though am not yet able to look at the photo albums...
Love that second stanza.
It is so hard to deal with loss, and while it does get easier with time, it never really goes away, does it?
Your poem evoked that feeling very well, and the use of the album to do that was neat. Not that I'm a poet - not by a long way!
Emotionally charged, so poignant ...
Anger and loss sure go hand-in-hand. I liked the use of the photos move the poem from beginning to end.
Listening for the sane voices can be difficult work in anger. This was poignant. Thanks.
Gautami, this is a very nice poem. Wasn't it nice to have a comforting father! Even now his picture brings you some comfort.
I don't think much anymore of my Mom but I do think some about my father. Dad died two years ago, Mom died ten years ago. Their pictures bring a few memories, no comfort at all.
..
Lovely - the missing never goes away.
You touched me deeply with this one ...
"I stop, blanking out everything
closing myself in, listening to the
sane voices inside my head
and yours too, which never fail
to comfort me in my anguish"
Indeed!
Lovely that at times of need sane voices rise in you and those of your fathers! Wonderful poem.
This was beautifully expressed sweet Tami.
What a beautiful poem~ It is so true too- in my life as well. I loved the phrase "rebel daughter"...Today is the 19th anniversary of my dad's death and although time helps, I still miss him dearly (as per my poem too). Thank you for this...
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