That
postcard I can’t mail to my dead mother
The
spark of a pencil poised in mid-air
The
push of smoke leaving a chimney
A
hush from a stop sign at the crossroads
The
spark of a pencil poised in mid-air
A
conversation of fences in a paddock
A
hush from a stop sign at the crossroads
This
silence of moonlight on my window
A
conversation of fences in a paddock
The
calmness of a torch shining where the noise was
This
silence of moonlight on my window
A
careful pile of pebbles in the cemetery
The
calmness of a torch shining where the noise was
The
moan of firewood stacked under the pine
A
careful pile of pebbles in the cemetery
The
lull inside a raindrop as it leaves its cloud
The
moan of firewood stacked under the pine
The
push of smoke leaving a chimney
The
lull inside a raindrop as it leaves its cloud
That
postcard I can’t mail to my dead mother
this is very lovely, I really like the repetitions. It's great the way descriptions of things evoke ideas and emotions like grief.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I have fallen in love with the modern pantoum.
Deletelove this
ReplyDeleteCheers, Efi.
Deletebeautiful and quietly sad - 'the moan of firewood' just wonderful
ReplyDeleteThank you Sarah. One of the themes in this poem is silence.
Deletethere's definitely some serendipity thing going on here, Myron ... I've been working today on notes for a vilanelle about my mother ... quite a similar rhythm to it
ReplyDeleteInteresting...What is the title of yours, Kit?
Delete