We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

23.4.19

Items in My Closet


For day 22 of Poems in April at 'imaginary garden with real toads' we are asked to write on one of several pictures offered from Shay's Word Garden. This one appealed to me:





















Items In My Closet

A blotted page of arcane symbols (discarded) as shelf lining –
advanced mathematics: one kind of magic, yes, but not mine.

Pens from the schoolroom: bare nibs, for dipping in 
magic inks to inscribe my preferred symbols: letters.

An old fob watch my Grandpa left me, on which 
when I was young he taught me the magic of time.

(The typewriter he also left me for writing my poetry –
my magic – was much too big to be kept in the closet.)

Before I cast a magic circle, I clear the energy of the space
with a bundle of smoking sage, wafted by this feathered fan.

Oh and those red petals? From a bunch of roses
a lover gave me on a magical night; for infusions.

11 comments:

  1. It sounds like a magical closet. I loved this moment of magic you spoke.

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  2. My grandpa gave me my old Underwood too, when I was eleven. I pounded out poems, stories and letters on that thing for decades. Two of the keys broke off, so I had to go back and fill the missing letters in by hand, lol. Computers: much handier. But I loved that old Underwood.

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    1. Mine was a Remington, inherited when I was 9. I was still using it for University assignments, and even beyond that to when I had young children of my own. Then I graduated to an electric typewriter (an Olivetti) ... and finally – in my fifties – to a computer.

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    2. PS He did have a fob watch, bigger and more elaborate than the one pictured – with a hinged, engraved silver door or lid over the face – but he didn't leave that to me, LOL.

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  3. The best thing about the modern age is the death of the typewrite probably because I am such a hopeless typist. The sound of rip and starting again haunts me still:) Lovey nostalgic poem

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    1. I was always a two-finger typist. By the time I got old enough to learn touch-typing I always gave up because I was faster at my own method by then. It stands me in good stead now. Touch-typists need to get extra keyboards for their tablets; I don't.

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  4. What a perfect collection of memories... too bad on the typewriter though

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    Replies
    1. Oh no, it needed to be out of the cupboard. It was constantly in use!

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  5. Ooh! I love the idea of making a magic circle with miscellaneous items. This is a cool poem, Rosemary. Sorry I missed it earlier in the month.

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