For the series, "Edges"
Her Voice
Garden in Memory
Her Voice
Garden in Memory
Soft light after rain.
The music of left-over droplets.
I think I have lost the past;
then, in such moments,
it comes rushing back to me.
Mossy pathways wind
through the old bushland.
With a small shock of recognition
I traipse them again in recollection.
I never became old there, despite....
I store those years in a locket
called remembrance, hidden in a drawer
seldom opened – in fact I keep it locked,
mostly. But sometimes the key turns
inadvertently, e.g. loosened by rain.
The sound of the rain may be
mocking or comforting. I alone have
the power to determine which;
and whether loss is a thing to mourn
or rejoice in. I, alone.
mocking or comforting. I alone have
the power to determine which;
and whether loss is a thing to mourn
or rejoice in. I, alone.
From low ferns and lofty treetops,
the leaves keep steadily dripping.
I admit I'm fond of the sound.
And so I linger a few moments more
This is extremely beautiful, Rosemary. You took me there. I could hear the rain.
ReplyDeletelovely
ReplyDeleteI was just as wonder-struck reading it this time. I love the drops of rain trickling through this poem. It is exceedingly beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI am struck by:
ReplyDelete"I alone have
the power to determine which;
and whether loss is a thing to mourn
or rejoice in. I, alone."
So true. Some losses ARE ok, have reasons, are come to terms with in whatever way. Some losses are to be mourned, and then again some are even to be celebrated. I read a REAL obit that was being passed around twitter. Someone's mother died, and the obit basically laid out what an unkind woman she was and that she would NOT be missed. Obviously nothing to mourn in THAT loss.
From low ferns and lofty treetops,
ReplyDeletethe leaves keep steadily dripping.
I admit I'm fond of the sound.
And so I linger a few moments more
in that other, long-ago garden. ............I did enjoy your poem in its entirety, however, I loved your closing stanza.
This is gorgeous, Rosemary!💞 I was especially struck by this line; "The sound of the rain may be mocking or comforting".. it's amazing how we respond/perceive to little things in life .. so much is colored by mood and emotion.💞
ReplyDeleteI love how rain works magic here. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI think I have lost the past... love that line Rosemary, it may spawn a poem..I think!!! Will leave you a note if it does!!!
ReplyDeleteOh, that's exciting. Yes, please do.
DeleteLuv the fact that the power is honed by you, the key to your memories. Beautiful, nostalgic mood.
ReplyDeleteHappy you dropped by my Sunday Standard today
much love...
This is stunning.... the way we feel the rain, and how we deal with loss... there is a parallel there for many I think.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful with a key message - we certainly have the choice how we want to handle it. Loved it totally !
ReplyDeleteI found myself traveling to your memory garden, and enjoying the sounds (hope you don't mind the company... I promise to be very quiet).
ReplyDeleteThis is pure beauty. The fourth stanza, in particular, is a delight to read.
Now I want rain and the sound of it. I like the nostalgia feel of the poem, Rosemary. Hopefully it will rain in the desert soon :)
ReplyDelete"I think I have lost the past;
ReplyDeletethen, in such moments,
it comes rushing back to me." Yes, Yes! And I love the rain, the sound of the rain , as the key.
SWEET!
ReplyDeleteZQ
Wonderful, Rosemary! I lobe the 'The music of left-over droplets' and the lines:
ReplyDelete'From low ferns and lofty treetops,
the leaves keep steadily dripping.
I admit I'm fond of the sound.
And so I linger a few moments more
in that other, long-ago garden.'
So evocative.....lovely!
ReplyDeleteYou create such a sense of mystery through these lines. I'm enjoying the images while a story is teasing me from them. :)
ReplyDeleteA beautifully rendered poem!
ReplyDeleteAn exquisite opening line, that, for me, had the effect of shushing the moment … your reader is ready for a lovely piece of poetry to follow, and you do not disappoint.
I sense something rather bitter-sweet in this - but perhaps, backward glances - particularly to where we never became old - often conjure forth a wisp of longing, I find.
Lingering in the long ago garden listening to the rain...nice !
ReplyDeleteSo many of mine are locked in lockets too. I love the "music of left-over droplets..."
ReplyDelete