‘She’s got her purple blouse on.
Lovely!’ he says as I walk past:
the man who sits out his days
on the steps opposite the park. I turn
and smile. ‘Thank you,’ I tell him.
‘You loved the lavender days,
didn’t you?’ he says gently. ‘Oh yes,'
I agree, 'absolutely!’ – believing it
in the moment. He smiles. I walk on,
almost remembering lavender days.
I'm sharing this post with Poets and Storytellers United for their (our!) first post of 2023, on January 6: Friday Writings #58. The prompt is 'Reclaim, Rekindle, Rebirth'. This was not written for it – our prompts are optional – yet I feel there is some kind of reclamation, rekindling or even rebirth to be found within this incident (and not only because the poem was written on New Year's Day).
Note: Not everyone understood the situation so I altered the poem to make it clearer he was the homeless man in this earlier post. Then one of my facebook readers thought I had spoilt the poetry of it. I asked readers here to comment on both options, and have now arrived at a version somewhere between the other two, which hopefully fixes it all.
I almost remember those lavender days. That was before I was
ReplyDeletein with hair over my collar, about the time I had the white streak of
hair up front. Almost remember the days of white jeans too.
And "Queer" was a derogatory call.
..
Ah well, let's not remember that last bit except as an object lesson. But the rest could be sweet to recall.
DeleteThe "almost" in the last line is totally super! (And the man on the steps made me think of a person from one of your earlier posts.)
ReplyDeleteYes, same man. (Smile.)
DeleteBeautiful Lavendar days make me think of purple fields, summer and somehow of romance
ReplyDeleteSo evocative, isn't it?
DeleteLovely how the scent of lavender lingers like the memory of a compliment received and well-taken.
ReplyDeleteIndeed.
DeleteRosemary!!!!!!....this romantic guy is in Murwillumbah????? Go for it girl before someone else snaps him up :)
ReplyDeleteI think you're the romantic, Rall! I don't think this bloke is looking to get snapped up, any more than I'm interested in doing any snapping. Besides, I wouldn't want to deprive any other colourful old ladies of their share of compliments if they walk by his spot on the steps.
DeleteLavender reminds me of the street name , where I spent most of my teen years. That street was so named not because of the flower, but the foul smells wafting in from the nearby sawmills and gasworks. Someone had a sense of wicked humour. I think I have written a poem about it. :)
ReplyDeleteI'd like to read that poem! (I think this bloke was referring to the purple colour rather than the smell.)
DeletePerhaps he was really referring to the colour instead of just jesting. :)
DeleteIf you go to my blog 'urban poems' and key in 'lavender' in the search box, it will lead you to this poem, "Lavender Street, early 60s'".
DeleteYes, it wasn't that he was jesting. More that this gentleman kinda lives in his own head – which evidently I have not conveyed well enough, forgetting that not everyone would have read my earlier piece about him. I'll add a belated note above.
Love the exchange. The mental image of "lavender days" makes me smile. The feel gentle, fun, and yummily scented.
ReplyDeleteYes, a sweet and dreamy image.
Deletecolor (and scent) are strong recalls - I am often transported back to yesterday (year) with memories of childhood and family... Sigh. A lovely poem to share with all of us!
ReplyDeleteThanks Margaret, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
DeleteLove this little light exchange. Lavender holds a memory of young love and spring flowers. I've been looking for the right lavender blouse for a long time now.
ReplyDeleteMay you find it soon!
DeleteI like the edited version! Perhaps you agreed with the Facebook reader, but I find their "complaint" quite rude. I see many are seeing images and scents of lavender flowers, yet, I heard a man not quite all there. I got the feeling that he really wasn't quite clear on what he was remembering, or when and what his lavender days were. It's still quite beautiful and sad. I love the "almost remembering," like when we first wake up and almost remember a dream just out of reach.
ReplyDeleteYes, your understanding is perfect! I'm delighted. The fb commenter, however, wasn't being rude, but passionate about poetics. She is one of my best and oldest friends and a wonderful poet herself, who knows I will always welcome her opinion – though I might not always agree with it. I'll take both versions of this poem to my offline workshop group, when we re-convene next month after our xmas break, for further discussion.
DeleteHow could anyone not love Lavender days? I remembered the man from your previous poem.
ReplyDeleteYou can start a series like Bjorn's Aging Librarian!
Now there's an interesting thought! Thank you. I just might.
DeleteSomething that used to happen to my mother, showing that people just don't think these things through:
ReplyDeleteMother was of English descent but never went to England; she was born in 1935. Even Dad finished high school and joined the Army about the time the War ended. Mother's name was Bonnie.
A cousin married an English woman he met during the War, after the War was over; they weren't in the desperate mess "war bride" often implied, but at least they were old enough. Her name was Bessie.
People who didn't know either of them well would NEVER say Mother looked ten years older than she was...but more than once they thought she was the war bride.
So...oh well, at least you have the complexion that lavender suits, lucky you!
And I do love to wear purple!
Delete