The cold bites
everything to black & white
I know the signs:
A spire tightens around my neck
Knotted of flowers, black
narcissus
In darkening sky
wind stings like a bee
Your absence
dear one is harder than
melting snow
salt-christened, blue teardrop
At night
I lean on your words -
womb, flint, amber
& burn
& burn
Process Notes: Inspired by nocturne journal of talented photographer Kirsty Mitchell. She went into a deep depression after the death of her mother. Fascinated by her late mother's fairy tale stories, she created stunning Wonderland photography.
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the vist ~ Wishing you all Happy Holidays ~
"Wind stings like a bee..."I understand that, Grace. We have that kind of wind right now that feels like a hundred bees stinging! I feel this poem. Have a good week, Grace.
ReplyDeleteWe are minus 9 today Mary ~ Very cold outside but hopefully our words are like spring ~ Thank you ~
DeleteThis is just great, the sparse but still well selected words that create this image of loss.. with the winter chill that bites. .. and those black narcissus.. that really gave a great image.
ReplyDeleteThank you Bjorn ~ Best time to write too ~
Deletewhat an interesting pic... a bit frightening for me cause i don't like when "things" close in too tightly on me...oy... but really love where it took you with your words grace
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your thoughts Claudia ~
Deletenice...love the intensity of the close grace...this time of year i think absence is felt all the longer...when the world is washed black and white....and we sometimes need a little color....smiles.
ReplyDeleteWe certainly need a little color ~ Thanks Brian ~
DeleteI think it's neat how you put yourself in her shoes, so to speak, and wrote a very compelling poem about it all. I especially like these lines:
ReplyDeleteAt night
I lean on your words -
womb, flint, amber
& burn
& burn
Thank you ~
DeleteGrace, this is pure poetry at its best. I really found it breathtaking in its language and execution. >KB
ReplyDeleteThanks so much KB ~
DeleteWhat's with all the poems about mom's? Just read Mary's memories of her mom, and now this. I miss my mom. I guess that's good poetry if it makes you feel, even if the feeling is sadness. Peace, Linda
ReplyDeleteBurning in the coldness of melancholy... beautifully written. The build up of the tension and the ending- wonderful indeed.
ReplyDelete-HA
Grace, so impressed how far your poetry has come in the time I've been reading you. This is descriptive, deep, emotional and deeply affecting. The illustration quite beautiful as well.
ReplyDeleteGay, thanks for all the encouragement ~ I would not have gone this far with you and all the lovely writers in D'verse ~
DeleteWonderful to be reminded of her. It is a strong force that got Kirsty going with her venture. Nicely Grace!
ReplyDeleteHank
The birthing of winter? of absence? Cold and dark and black and white are not bad in themselves, but when they make the absence so evident in sting and tear and melt, then, yes, then it burns. Pow!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words on the starkness of loss.
ReplyDeleteDo so hope your hols are wonderful too.
Anna :o]
So very beautiful.
ReplyDeletestark images, sparse words...a real portrait of the "burn" of loss.
ReplyDeletestarts with frost ends with burn
ReplyDeleteVery pretty, and sad as well. I really like this piece.
ReplyDeleteExcitingly sparse and beautifully structured Grace leading to "burn, burn" How I feel that...
ReplyDeleteThe leanness with which this is achieved is inspiring...Thanks, I'm taking that with me into my efforts next year...With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com
Really gorgeously crafted Grace--I agree with Scott--the sparseness works so well here--and I love your close!
ReplyDeleteSuch wind and nasty weather need a burn burn to keep us warm
ReplyDeletelove the lingering last lines...it does just imprint and linger. Beautifully deep.
ReplyDeletethere is a lingering sadness to this... that comes through when you read it... excellent write Grace...
ReplyDeleteMy mother died young, at 39; so she has been gone from my life, my holidays for 45 years; so this piece resonates with me like a laser dagger thrust to my heart; although the terrific style of the piece left latitude for other interpretations; at first I thought of the narrator as Mother, and the lost one as child; nice job, Grace.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem and thank you for your kind words.
ReplyDeletethe freeze and burn - love the contrast
ReplyDeleteGrace what a lovely poem. I felt the yearning, the coldness. Thanks for sharing the story that inspired the photographer too.
ReplyDeleteHaven't been around much. Glad to read something of yours again.
The sparseness of the words on the page create a visual feel so in keeping with the message - great write.
ReplyDeletethe pain, the glum , the depression . all coming our very strongly.
ReplyDeleteYou've created a wonderful series of images here--powerful, concise, wonderfully allusive. You gather the spirit of emptiness that is so effective because of its spareness. Great choice of words and style here. Fine job.
ReplyDeleteSteve K.
Amazing as usual Heaven, just creates a wonderful atmosphere and mood for me.
ReplyDeleteThe cold does bite, Heaven! Another beautiful verse. Thank you! Have a wonderful week.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful. Winter really does have that capability.
ReplyDeleteCrisp reflection, feeling burn...~ you know what you're talking about...
ReplyDeleteI felt a chill at the end - the opposite of what I was reading, but an indication of the effectiveness of this poem I think.
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by my blog again, and for your encouragement as always.
A haunting write-- may I never know the sting of that metaphorical bee again. Bravo. ~peace, Jason
ReplyDeleteA wonderful accompaniment to her photography. Grief is a terrible, terrible biting pain. I felt its teeth so hard this year. Very well done.
ReplyDelete"Your absence
ReplyDeletedear one is harder than
melting snow
salt-christened, blue teardrop " beautiful imagery threaded through this tender, tragic situation Grace
what a desperate time to feel the loss of a loved one so deeply...cold, bleak winter...the way life seems to disappear...excellent write
ReplyDeleteStunning photograph and bright poem as an homage to both the dead mother and her daughter. You have painted pain with powerful images, Grace.
ReplyDeleteYour words captured the sense of loss beautifully.
ReplyDeleteThat's some amazing photo art she has created, I looked at them all on the landing page.
ReplyDeleteIt seems the snow is on fire with missing someone here.
Another beautiful verse, Grace. No one has a way with words quite like you do.
Happy Holidaze!! :)
oxoxxo
you take a light, as if at night in the dark - when one can see any spark from a long distance - and hold it up, throwing everything nearby into relief, angled, stark. a good weekend to you, Grace ~
ReplyDeleteStarts with the sting of freezing cold and ends with the sting of burning heat. It has to be the painful kind of passion to do that.
ReplyDelete