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.

1 May 2014

Remembering the Dead

It's the night of Samhain
here in the Southern
half of the world.

I find photos
of my dear dead,
going through old albums.

Two were my mother's,
which I inherited; the rest
cover most of my life …

most of my loves —
but there are two faces missing.
I scrabble through shelves and drawers.

A whole album, I realise
has been mislaid.
The big one with the red cover.

In that, my children were little
and there were many shots
of their handsome father

(my second husband,
the one I had the longest,
who died in January '95).

It was the only place I kept 
pictures of him. But he was a friend 
and should be honoured.

And my beautiful Nana,
who died when I was four —
where is she?

She hated being photographed.
So the family had only one:
official, serious, in her nurse's uniform.

I've put my copy somewhere safe. 
Too safe, and now I can't 
discover the hiding-place.

Eventually I call it a day —
late into the night — and go to bed
after finally casting circle.

I tell the Listeners 
what I choose to discard 
at this time, from my life,

and what I choose 
to bring in. (Life, and all
its varied memories.)

Then I dream all night
of old homes, old dramas,
ghosts who demand their due.

When I wake, I see
it rained while I slept; the sky
is still grey, the sun

struggles through cloud,
and Samhain leaves me a task:
write the stories.

April Poem A Day Challenge, day 30: calling it a day


  1. Dear Rosemary, What a wonderful poem!

  2. Exquisite - I feel it moving through me !

  3. Well, of course!!
    I remember the departed in their words, their wise or silly sayings. They make me laugh or cry.
    I'm sure you do too. Those are a good place to start, and add to with your own words.