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.

3 January 2017

Mothers' Secrets

Without warning
time reels back, 
returning always 
over and over
to those fragments 
best forgotten – 
which of course 
we don't forget.

A half-revealed eyebrow
in a photo, the reminiscent
shape of a stranger's shoulder,
a stray curl on a forehead ...
our lost children.


Written for Quadrille #23: curl at dVerse.

30 comments:

  1. It does happen a propos of nothing...and particularly at this time of year...Subtlety is an art form. You have it in spades. It is the most effective way to express pain. Beautifully expressed.

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  2. Wow.. beautifully written rosemary..we never forget, even when we have forgotten.

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  3. Spot on, very strong, love the tightness and brevity. Super last line, shock value.

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  4. Nice remembrance of lost children.

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  5. I guess somethings are just not meant to be forgotten. You verse was subtle and very expressive at the same time.

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  6. And sometimes, time (or photographs) take us back to those fragments that we try to forget, but cannot. Powerful writing, Rosemary.

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  7. Yes. I so know the feeling. And I agree with Rall.

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  8. Visions that can never be forgotten - beautiful poem, Rosemary!

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  9. I love the way you ended this with such subtle impact --- the kind that shadows the reader as she leaves.

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  10. Are you really a witch, or have you been peeking over my shoulder? I was looking through photos a couple of days ago. One specific photo took my back to where I had hoped I had forgotten. You captured that perfectly. Your succinctness making the mood all the more tight.

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    1. I am really a witch, and I wasn't peeking. As a poet, I did hope to capture the universal in the personal; thank you for telling me I did.

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  11. Nothing like those details reminding you of what's lost, and in some ways the child is always lost to growing up.

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  12. Very moving and touching to read Rosemary~ We never forget them ~

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  13. "stray curl" on the forehead....the curl itself is "stray" or lost from its place....a beautiful image here given the subject of lost children. Beautifully written.

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  14. not a curl out of place in your very moving words

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  15. A beautiful way in which memories curl back, both of the loss and the love we still know.

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  16. I love the melancholy you so artistically and beautiful encapsulated. Children are from us a part of us forever - the mind will never let us forget.

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  17. "shape of a stranger's shoulder..."
    oh, those shadows of our past. Wonderful, Rosemary.

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  18. Your poem made my think of my best friend's dead father. He was not a child when he died, but he was in such a state that it felt that way, to me and his son who were alone with him, aged 8-9.
    Your poem really feels like a timeless tribute, one very deep and hurtful as well, like poems must be if we want to grow and learn.

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  19. This is incredibly moving, Rosemary, we never really forget.. do we?

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  20. I hadn't expected that last line. An excellent surprise, Rosemary.

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  21. Memories have a life of their own

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  22. What an unexpected turn! Beautifully done!

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  23. A moving and powerful piece.

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  24. to those fragments
    best forgotten –
    which of course
    we don't forget.

    Some bad moments may best be forgotten. Yet one is constantly reminded perhaps to be wary again of the bad consequences!

    Hank

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  25. Indeed, those moments best forgotten are rarely forgotten.

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  26. Those little wisps of memories that so affect us, so well captured by you. Very emotive.

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