A red house on the hill...set
ablaze by an evening sunburst.
An ox-eye daisy spotted lawn –
crazy-paving pathway – flowerbed
lined, where calloused hands
dig and hoe like a devil possessed;
her mindset – fuelled by eyes
that rage like the fires of hell.
She dies, a little, every day;
when she goes back inside
there is nobody to notice,
save two Staffordshire dogs...
chipped, and faded, sitting,
mute, on a chest of drawers.
Dust – hangs thick on sills
and wainscots...coals, unlit
in the grate, yet, in the flicker
of widowhood, slowly, she sits –
gazes out the window – hair
scragged up in a rubber-band;
frantic, fugitive strands escaping
when they can, as through a mist
slowly rising, she sees, way back
to the past, when he farmed this land;
where wheat and barley stood tall,
where now, uprooted trees stand –
cenotaphs to a cruel wind’s fury...
A rusted tractor; home to a bunch
of marauding field-mice and rats.
Barren fields – cawing of crows,
the only thing breaks the silence now,
and in the yard, the blinded eye
of a derelict hut, where he ate lunch,
besieged by ivy as it punches
on through...
Its roots run deep – deeper
than even she imagines. Hand
to belly – feels that knot,
deep inside her, take hold,
but slowly, like canker on a rose.
Strangles all it touches; insidious,
it creeps. Even now...and how,
it burns.
Comments
fatboy74 | October 6, 2011 - 12:24
I can never comprehend how you maintain such quality in your writing Tina and yet be so industrious. I think this is a wonderful portrait of a life left behind, really well done. :-)
Silver Spun Sand | October 6, 2011 - 12:25
Thanks, fb;-) Tina
skinner_jennifer | October 6, 2011 - 14:45
This one sent shivers through me Tina, I could
picture a widow left to tend the land, dreaming
of her life, when times were better...her man was
around, but now all she is left with are her
memories and her two Staffordshire dogs.
Very well described. Thankyou for sharing.
Jenny.
L G Meadows | October 6, 2011 - 16:03
Amazing words...strong stuff. I liked it, it is so descriptive.
Silver Spun Sand | October 6, 2011 - 17:23
Jenny - you are more than welcome. And you thank you for reading;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | October 6, 2011 - 17:24
Many thanks, LG;-)
Tina
Highhat | October 6, 2011 - 18:58
Yes very powerful indeed Tina- such a descriptive poem with poignant imagery.
;)Pia
Silver Spun Sand | October 7, 2011 - 06:59
Thank you, so very much, Pia;-)
Tina
RachelPatricia | October 7, 2011 - 08:40
Think FB said it all in his comment, Tina - industrious, imaginative and inspiring, you are indeed :)
Very much enjoyed - almost choked me, this one! (in a good way) ;)
Thanks for yet another beautiful read and hope you are well,
Rachel xx
Silver Spun Sand | October 7, 2011 - 10:34
Many thanks for your words, Rachel. It is always a treat to hear from you,and pleased that you enjoyed this.
Yes, I am well thank you...keeping busy in the garden but am fighting a losing battle with the autumn leaves;-)
Tina xx
MistakenMagic | October 7, 2011 - 15:33
That final stanza gave me chills, Tina. This is a brilliant and hauntingly beautiful poem. The imagery reminds me a lot of Toni Morrison's poetic prose. Well done on the cherry!
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | October 7, 2011 - 17:42
Gosh, I haven't heard of Toni Morrison, Magic, and must definitely 'Google' him;-)
Pleased you enjoyed, and many thanks for telling me.
Tina xxx
rjnewlyn | October 7, 2011 - 23:19
Wonderful. Coming just at the right moment as the temperature drops across the country (crows somehow always do the trick).
Rob
Silver Spun Sand | October 8, 2011 - 08:02
Hi there, Rob;-)
You're right about the mercury...and the crows.
Many thanks.
Tina;-)