For Mag 283
Ghosts
By Marion
White is not a color
Peonies do not grow here
This vase is ostentatious
I will not shed a tear---
His absence is a presence
as real as my red robe
His spirit whispers secrets
that only we two know---
Dragonfly: Any of various large insects of the order Odonata or suborder Anisoptera, having a long slender body and two pairs of narrow, net-veined wings that are usually held outstretched while the insect is at rest. Also called regionally darner, darning needle, mosquito fly, mosquito hawk, needle, skeeter hawk.
Poetry: The art or work of a poet.
Prolixity: Excessive wordiness in speech or writing; longwindedness
14 comments:
A touch of bitter beauty filters through these reflective thoughts. Lovely.
Lovely - painting and poem.
Thank you, Gemma...what a beautiful name you have. I appreciate you stopping by. xo
Jonathan, thank you. I appreciate you! xo
Even though
I whisper to myself
As if
In this empty room
Someone else might
Overhear
Would that you were here
Maybe then
This pain wouldn't
Tear at me so
But you are not
Even though
I wish it with all of me
Even though
I have need of you
These flowers are of cold comfort
Offering slim solace
In their silence
Chris
Thank you for your kind words, and thank you for sharing this piece which sparked another verse from me :-)
perfectly succinct story poem.
woow, its beautiful
whoa! that is too beautiful, somber yet lovely
This is beautiful, Marion.
Excellent response to the prompt.
sweet ...beautiful words!
Beautiful secrets I'm sure. Delightful.
Love...
That is so hauntingly beautiful.
xo
marion, the (somewhat) dissociation between the first two lines, maybe three, four lines! is brilliant to me. and then the bringing to earth in the tangible folds of the robe. i think this is quite a good poem. there is great strength in it, the strength reflecting in equal measure her pain.))
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