It's that time of year again.
In 1966 I stayed with a penfriend friend in upstate New York and found one of my greatest loves in my host's best friend (aren't men brilliantly shallow and one - dimensional). The property where the girl's family lived had an empty, reputedly haunted house. We used to go there for solitude but the voyeuristic portrait of a young woman hanging over the hearth watched us. We decided she was the ghost, had died too young to have been loved and was jealous of our passionate snogging and groping (my girlfriend was very young). It was spooky.
You brought me to the ghost girl.
In the empty house on your land
a faded portrait above the cold hearth,
she watched as we walked to
the gates of experience.
You introduced us, telling me
the ghost girl spoke to you,
said she was lonely and afraid;
love never lit her spirit or
taught her to be brave before
she walked with her cold spouse
into the loveless darkness.
She watched when our hot kisses
warmed and coloured the abandoned room
as sunlight never had.
You believed our energy might
free her, were sure she was unhappy
in the prison of that picture frame;
her eyes, soft-blue like yours,
watched me map desires on your
ghost - pale, unexplored body.
She too was young, you said,
when she had to leave, and dwell
in the place of unfulfilled watchers.
Youth had denied her the freedom
of death, she was imprisoned by
things not done,and death took
the freedom to love, become a woman.
In days when youth was a prison
she was given no time to be free. You said.
I was less sure. In my imagination
she was not quite so innocent,
used your body to cling to our world.
You tried to release the Ghost girl
but she claimed our love for her own.
Through months and years she watched
interrupting each time I thought of you,
jealously pushing me away. She won.
You turned from me, she smiled then
knowing you would bring new lovers.
this is a powerful, mesmerizing piece, brilliantly written--BRAVA!
the reader, as katy said, is willingly deposited into your story and must find out the resolution--haunting, beautifully presented piece.
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
Reviewed by Katy Walsvik (Reader)
Reviewed on October 24, 2004
They say our vision is always 20/20 in hindsight... as a 'looking back' poem, Ian, I think you've broadened that here, to include writing.
From word one, I could feel myself being willingly swooped from my chair and set down in the middle of your piece, entirely mesmerized by the story, the writing, itself, and by the gentle intensity of this mystery. It's beyond romance, beyond even poetry... "as we walked to the gates of experience..." is such an imaginative line.
At the bottom of it, someone lacking creativity could say this is about love and loss; because of the utterly poetic expression of your lines, for me, it transcends definition. Can you tell that I really love this poem? (smile) I'm keeping this for my library. It's great writing... it's a tingling and very cool story. katy xox.
Tasked by his Goddess to find, relocate, and then quicken, the last three Heart Tree gem-seeds, Vanx the bard, and his motley crew of adventurers, set out to do just that.
Tasked by his Goddess to find, relocate, and then quicken, the last three Heart Tree gem-seeds, Vanx the bard, and his motley crew of adventurers, set out to do just that.
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this is a powerful, mesmerizing piece, brilliantly written--BRAVA!
the reader, as katy said, is willingly deposited into your story and must find out the resolution--haunting, beautifully presented piece.
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
From word one, I could feel myself being willingly swooped from my chair and set down in the middle of your piece, entirely mesmerized by the story, the writing, itself, and by the gentle intensity of this mystery. It's beyond romance, beyond even poetry... "as we walked to the gates of experience..." is such an imaginative line.
At the bottom of it, someone lacking creativity could say this is about love and loss; because of the utterly poetic expression of your lines, for me, it transcends definition. Can you tell that I really love this poem? (smile) I'm keeping this for my library. It's great writing... it's a tingling and very cool story. katy xox.
Sandie May Angel :o)
Love Tinka