Looking for Monica
By Philip Sidney
- 2513 reads
Your mother had a sunflower face,
it turned to the light.
You may not want to know
how bold she was -
she danced the Charleston on a stage,
7 years old with the verve of a flapper on black and white film -
out of time with the 70s.
You’d be 27 now -
do you have her cow brown eyes? Her creamy skin?
Of course, they are all yours -
we relinquished any part of you when the papers were signed.
I have her letters from Holloway -
you’d not want to see them.
She told me she’d married in beer
before an altar at midnight -
God was her witness.
They’d been others, she said -
a brown bread baby she’d buried by moonlight.
She’d named you for a friend from Denmark -
oh yes, she’d travelled -
had lived on a kibbutz in Israel,
in a cave – opal hunting – in Australia,
on the streets of London.
She was a wild thing.
Perhaps we’ve met -
passed each other on a street.
You may not want to be found -
but I’m looking.
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Comments
I think I knew her
But there were a lot of "hers" back then weren't there?
"Ruby Tuesdays" I call them.
Terrific stuff ....... so sad there will never be hippies again
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brilliant. This builds into a
brilliant. This builds into a whole world with so few words. The first two lines and the last two make a perfect frame
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There are different kinds of
There are different kinds of light, not all are good. And she got married, and buried her child in the night. I would think, if a child knows they are adopted it must be a good thing to know your real family?
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Impressive!
Impressive! ‘She was a wild thing’ - yes, and a very interesting one too. I like to think that Monica inherited some of her mother’s zest for life. ‘The papers were signed’ but that does not stop the remembering and wondering and looking. Wistful or wishful or both? I really appreciated this aspect of the poem.
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A brown bread baby she buried
A brown bread baby she buried by moonlight - my favourite line, but the whole thing a winner. Really good writing.
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A very thought-provoking
A very thought-provoking piece, Philip Sydney. Appropriate "telling" form.
Parson Thru
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Heart-wrenching and
Heart-wrenching and beautifully written, this poem gently hits the core of loss and the search for wholeness. Nice one.
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She's brought to life, here.
She's brought to life, here. '...letters from Holloway...' makes all sorts of scenarios open up to the reader. The tension in 'you may not want to be found - but I'm looking'. A beautifully constructed poem and a great piece of storytelling.
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