The first part of this two-poem sequence was posted a few days ago, under the post title 'An old story'.
FOR FRAN
2. Another epitaph
On neat quiet afternoons of leaves
I visit clouds and pastures of the mind
leafing through notes of your faces
— which were always windy
exchange perhaps yours for mine
almost find you there
(sudden surge of hibiscus)
… but then you’re gone
glimpses of cards in a ruffled pack rippling too fast
quick fingering piano after the keys have been touched
— flashes of shadows …
you are the past
frayed petals blowing down-mind:
my black garden where you do not bloom
flower-of-an-hour
my sister my ghost
Note: 'flower-of-an-hour': a type of hibiscus.
(Photo by 'American 187' licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-SA 4.0)
from Universe Cat, Pariah Press (Melb.) 1985
and Secret Leopard, Alyscamps Press (Paris) 2005.
First published Poets Choice 1979 (The Last Poets Choice)
To be shared with Poets United's Pantry of Poetry and Prose #6
To be shared with Poets United's Pantry of Poetry and Prose #6
Beautiful, the flower of an hour sister-ghost.
ReplyDeleteThe last 5 lines, in particular, put my hand over my heart. The sense of letting go, of losing someone so close to one's soul, of seeing that un-blooming garden... makes every image ache in such a person way. Unforgettable.
ReplyDeleteWhen we get to a certain age, it seems as if we are constantly saying goodbye. You have done that so beautifully in this poem, it touched me deeply. I love the opening lines – I’ve had many quiet afternoons of leaves recently and they do tend to make the mind drift with the leaves – and the parenthesised sudden surge of hibiscus.
ReplyDeleteSuch rich and touching imagery - and memories
ReplyDeleteoh the words and images: down-mind, black garden, sudden surge of hibiscus, afternoons of leaves - how I love them, how I wish I could even conjure them.. beautifully done!
ReplyDeleteFlowers often remind me other people who have gone so far away; probably because we had them in our garden or perhaps I had bought them for her.
ReplyDelete"My sister my ghost" that's a beautiful and affecting description. This tribute poem is heartfelt and rich with imagery, I can almost see and feel the "...notes of your faces— which were always windy". Yours is truly a heavenly piece that cherishes memories of a loved one.
ReplyDeleteVisiting the "pastures of the mind" as a start of your memories, you gave us the journey to the black garden. It is both a sad and a loving tribute. Thank you
ReplyDeleteThis is incredibly poignant, Rosemary. I am especially touched by; " you are the past frayed petals blowing down-mind." Sigh..
ReplyDeleteLove all the images of loss and the final line gave me chills. Wow.
ReplyDeletePoignant...powerful...profound.
ReplyDeleteI love how you end this, but more all those images that make me think how often a person fades more and and more, but comes back in those sudden flashbacks in the scent of a flower or the wind.
ReplyDeleteI can feel your pain at her loss in this. "frayed petals blowing down-mind:
ReplyDeletemy black garden where you do not bloom"...….such an image of loss and the way she touched her soul.
Those leaves in the wind a lovely image for friends who have left on
ReplyDeleteThank you for dropping by my sumie Sunday today Rosemary
Much👼🏽love
This is beautiful. Reminded me of how I can't recall my mother's voice anymore... but I hear her laugh clear as day. Deeply felt. I gasped near the end.
ReplyDeleteRespected Rosemary, your poem touches the soul deeply.It makes the reader feel the closeness as well as the vastness of separation..in 'gone' and the 'black' garden strikes the level of grief felt. Amazing powerful poem.
ReplyDelete