Soundless Whispers

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  1. #1

    Soundless Whispers

    I went to visit Mom for Mother's Day,
    as I always will.
    Sitting cross-legged,
    I rambled on like a fool,
    telling tales, seeking advice;
    conventional conversation.

    Her voice did not hitch
    a ride on a sound wave
    to reply,
    yet still I heard her clearly,
    not with my ears,
    but with my heart.

    Uncurling cracking knees,
    I rose, and from the vase
    removed ravaged remnants
    of my last visit.
    I disposed of blooms
    as dry as their distant
    and more fortunate cousins
    pressed in some tome.
    I'd already learned
    too much water
    led to stagnation.

    Once the fresh bouquet
    was pleasingly arranged,
    I cracked the cap
    of bottled life
    sharing its contents
    with thirsty stems.

    A palm carrying my kiss
    caressed the plaque
    adorned by her name
    alongside Daddy's
    as the first tear freed itself
    from the brimming pool
    that was my right eye.

    Quickly spinning
    on a reluctant heel,
    I took on
    the seemingly endless trudge
    to the lonely road
    as a deluge to equal
    the wrath of a category five
    broke free
    drenching me in saline.

    Through blurred eyes,
    I finally spied the gate
    encircling the verdant
    greenery bedecked field
    where Mother Nature
    reclaims her children.

    With the storm spent,
    a final emaciated droplet
    sought to give in to gravity,
    but lost steam mid-cheek.
    As I inhaled deeply
    of grass scented air,
    a soothing whisper
    nestled my soul,
    "Best to soak that collar, Lisa,
    your mascara
    has muddied the waters."

    At that moment,
    my lips found the courage
    to loosen up in a stretch,
    for I knew
    she was still with me.
    Blowing a buss into warm wind,
    I whispered back,
    "See you soon, Ma."

  2. #2
    Love the message and imagery... I have visited my mother at her grave many times... so I sorta know where you are coming from... I would love to see some of the excess edited out, just to keep the message focused.... but I understand that may not be the style for this poem... your poetry always resonates with me because you share such intimate moments... that is the kind of poetry that I am drawn to... love and *hugs*, my friend...
    Check out the exciting Poetry Hill !!

    If you are a writer, reach a reader
    If you are a fighter, teach a leader
    If you are a lover, touch a leper
    If this has helped you, thank you, reader

    If you can read this, teach a thinker

    Author: Lynn Loschky

    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  3. #3
    You are far too kind, Jul my love, this needs work in the exact fashion you proposed. S4 is getting ditched, everything else needs tightening. I am meandering too much. To be honest, I can nix half of it and still get it to work as I intend. Chop, chop, chop, lol. I was mushy and made the mistake of getting lost in it. I don't do mushy well. Never have, never will. Taking the pruning shears to this as soon as I stop retching at having even put it up in its current condition. Appreciate the positive, you're a peach, but your honesty is truly priceless and equally appreciated. Big hugs.

  4. #4
    Hi CD - This is a touching and loving poem. I think it would benefit from some reduction of lines and suggesting rather
    than coming out directly and stating or telling in your descriptive images:

    Her voice did not hitch
    a ride on a sound wave
    to reply,
    yet still I heard her clearly,
    (not with my ears,
    but with my heart.)

    Just as an example - I think this is more powerful without the last two lines - the reader will infer that.


  5. #5
    This is a very good poem in a lot of ways -- clearly written with creative language. I will agree with Firemajic, however, that it needs some cutting -- less is more, if you know what I mean. Also -- and please don't take this personally -- some of the description that the speaker makes of herself comes across as a little narcissistic (focused on self), especially that long description of her crying. Simply mentioning once that she cried (stated in a creative way, as you obviously know how to do) may be all you need.

    I wonder if longer lines might not fit the poem better.

    Your title sounds overly dramatic to me. An understated title might be more effective. All I could think of was "Talking to the Wind" or "Listening to the Wind" (since you mention warm wind in the poem). Or you might mention the headstone in the title.

    This is a narrative. Aren't narratives wonderful? There is nothing better than a good story, and to pull it off in a poem takes a lot of talent.
    Last edited by Caleb Murdock; May 17th, 2018 at 10:48 PM.


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