I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

22 November 2015

You Were a Face in a High Window, Watching















You looked out over the back yard, checking.
Were the lines of washing still propped up,
a forked stick braced on earth pushing them skyward?

Face in the mirror – here are you, staring out again
in my own contours and expressions:
a living ghost. (I understand you better now.)

High over my life I think your soul will keep on gazing,
window of sky through to forever, while I live.
Watching. Looking out for me, not the washing.


 A word acrostic for Play it Again #23 at 'imaginary garden with real toads', partly inspired by Ingrid Jonker's 'Ladybird' and partly by Bjorn Rudberg's 'time travel' prompt which asks us to include past, present and future.
The photo and its copyright belong to me by right of inheritance, and should not be reproduced without permission. 

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14 comments:

  1. Anonymous22 November 2015 at 12:29

    Like this poem very much, past present future integrated easily, with consistent imagery. A lot is communicated in few lines, nothing wasted. Anon.

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  2. Sherry Blue Sky22 November 2015 at 14:34

    This is absolutely beautiful. I love the idea of her, watching over your life. I resonate with seeing her face emerging in your own - in my case my grandma's face began staring out of the mirror at me at fifty.........

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  3. brudberg22 November 2015 at 18:13

    I think there are those days I see my father's face, and maybe also his mind too. Love the word acrostic poem embedded too.

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  4. kaykuala22 November 2015 at 23:43

    A silent admirer can be a boost to the reality of life's offerings.

    Hank

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  5. Fireblossom22 November 2015 at 23:53

    MY mother is probably like, "forget you, what about the laundry!"

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  6. Outlawyer22 November 2015 at 23:55

    I am laughing at Shay's comment, but I do really love the image you have posed here--and the truth of finding the face of your mother in your face and contours--the forked stick lifting up the clothes etc--all wonderful--one of my favorites of yours actually. Thanks. k.

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  7. Maude Lynn23 November 2015 at 03:47

    Oh, I love this, Rosemary!

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  8. Kerry O'Connor23 November 2015 at 03:55

    This gave me a severe case of goose flesh, Rosemary. It doesn't get better than that.

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  9. Rosemary Nissen-Wade23 November 2015 at 07:54

    Ooh, thrilled with all your comments!

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  10. Gillena Cox23 November 2015 at 08:30

    past present and future melded well
    nice write

    much love...

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  11. Gail23 November 2015 at 11:40

    Beautiful and sad, it seemed.

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  12. Marian23 November 2015 at 22:45

    Really beautiful, and I love your approach to the acrostic too.

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  13. ✿24 November 2015 at 14:32

    I really like this.

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  14. Hannah24 November 2015 at 23:29

    Wow...I really love the highlighted extra poem in this!! Brilliant work, Rosemary!!

    ReplyDelete

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