I sit on your sofa looking over the photos on the wall
Discolored images of Broadway gatherings
Fleeting moments of smiling faces
Memories of times when your dreams were yet still forming
They seem to be staring at me
Wondering who I am
Who is that stranger in the distance
Daring to peer into our forgotten panorama?
I wait for your return like an inpatient child
Waiting to reappear with refreshment
With a sense of tarnished emotion
And three cats following your feet
A stuffed bear looming over the marble fireplace
Its arms extended in the air and its teeth gnarling
Almost seems as if it wants to jump upon us
For keeping it in such a state of limbo
For allowing it to endure the ages
Playbills are scattered about like dries out leaves
From times past when you ventured
The Great White Way
Celebrating the jazz of theater
With the verve of a woman invigorated
With the art of being alive
You sit down and pour me some lemonade
Smile and reminisce of the Shakespearean Theater
You founded in California
And your eyes sparkled with life
And your voice strong and playful
Happiness etched into your expression
So I finished my lemonade
And excused myself for it was getting late
And as I ventured outside your mansion
I could hear you still speaking
To your daughter who died so long ago
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Reviews of "The Old Woman's Mansion"
Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader)
Reviewed on January 10, 2005
Such vivid description, I could actually see the scene and feel the emotions of both the lady and her guest.
I get the picture, like the time Frank Snowden Hopkins told me, "See there, on the mantle, sitting on her grandfather's knee, that's my cousin, Katie Hepburn. I took care of him until he died.
this is a wonderful glimpse into the life of an aging thespian...is it real? i knew someone like that once in LA, she would always offered me a martini and then bring me a glass of seltzer in a martini glass, she had quit drinking years before but never acknowledged it and neither did i but i remember all the old photos and playbills, copies of variety and the actor's guild laying around
"You sit down and pour me some lemonade
Smile and reminisce of the Shakespearean Theater
You founded in California
And your eyes sparkled with life
And your voice strong and playful
Happiness etched into your expression"
Hmm, from the woman's point of view: She seems happy, living amongst her memoriabilia, in her mansion, reflecting on her life accomplishments and telling her story to a handsome young man visitor, such as you! Hahahaha, I'd say, she's doing fairly well!
Wonderful write, Robert!
i could really feel this - the old woman's entrapment in what used to be, the speaker's discomfort, the place screaming to be set free and move on... excellent writing and the end was perfect, haunting and echoes the depth of the woman's entrenchment in another world, faraway and long ago.
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
Reviewed on January 6, 2005
Well I know people that are like the woman in this poem having worked as a nurse in a nursing home.
There are so many out there that can relate to this one Robert..we do our best to hold on to the better times in our lives...and youth being one of those that we revere as top of the page.
Excellent write.
...Had a hunch that this would be a Miss Havisham write!! This spooks me tremendously, having grown up "in a house of madness"; the little girl who floats about as if herself invisible, and as if it were she who is the ghost! It reminds me of Estella in Great Expectations: ghastly to be living as a character and part in someone else's nightmare: you do well to "be excused" and make a quick exit!! Mind you, I guess that for those of us who can relate here, we can always choose to inhabit Alice's Wonderland instead of the Looking Glass - which is what this write holds up to me, Jude... and if you ARE sat on a mushroom smoking a hookah, you wouldn't care to tell me which side will make me grow BIGGER and to grow up, would you?!... Don't mind me... I'm just thinking out loud and talking to no-one in particular, as we mad old ladies do!! A thespian write, Robert, which I have greatly enjoyed - love it! I sympathise with the bear and admire his attitude!! TY Kate xx
Your poetry is one that I never fail to read, because it never fails to speak to me. This one, absolutely exquisite, spoke to me of an Old Person's Mansion that is ageless and dwells within all of us as much as we dwell within it. It's the potential to remain young and have our eyes filled with sparkle, and our voice brimming with strength and playfulness. Death does not have an entrance to where the Art of being alive is always being reborn... **smile**
(You may want to revise lines 18 and 27... hope you don't mind this little notice)
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
Sad yet splendid story telling in nice poetic form.
Take care
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on January 5, 2005
Less then a year ago I had a rare chance to browse through some photo's of a lady that was famous in Ohio for her line dancing in a night club. She was the lead dancer and often set up the routines and so on. She has already passed on, but her friend, who still admires her, talked about how she give up her dream towards the end. Very sad. This poem makes me think of her. Your capture of the moment of a lifetime is fantastic.
This poem really packs a punch, Robert, and the images are so intense.
I could see her withered skin and sunken eyes as she danced in her imagined party dress, recalling when she was someone everyone knew. Now she talks to shadows and imaginary friends. Her body and mind are crumbling and vacant,and nobody remembers her name. This is both beautiful and sad.
Take care,
Sherry
Quite a mesmerizing piece, somewhat like a mixed media portrait of grief and solitude and innocence, made as beautiful by the silent attentive listener as it is made frightening and sad by the old woman's wandering through both the physical mansion of her present and the spiritual mansion of her pained and glorious past. Powerful stuff.
This is a superb short story that could go on and on. The images came at me like shooting stars. I could even smell the old woman's house. Is this a glimpse into you or is it fiction?
It could be part of a screenplay, it has wonderful images and sensitive awareness of the surroundings, with graciousness towards the older woman. Very nicely done...
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on January 5, 2005
This is sad. Reminded me of a book called stargirl.
Her memories are on the wall.
Love the multitude of images. And the author being attentive to the old lady.
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
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Ron
thanks for the journey!!!
The definitive 'imaged' write - exceptional masterpiece!!
Best wishes,
Robert
Smile and reminisce of the Shakespearean Theater
You founded in California
And your eyes sparkled with life
And your voice strong and playful
Happiness etched into your expression"
Hmm, from the woman's point of view: She seems happy, living amongst her memoriabilia, in her mansion, reflecting on her life accomplishments and telling her story to a handsome young man visitor, such as you! Hahahaha, I'd say, she's doing fairly well!
Wonderful write, Robert!
Felix
It gets to you at times and make you feel hate bigger than life!!
Love Tinka
Excellent write.
Lisa
(You may want to revise lines 18 and 27... hope you don't mind this little notice)
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
Take care
I could see her withered skin and sunken eyes as she danced in her imagined party dress, recalling when she was someone everyone knew. Now she talks to shadows and imaginary friends. Her body and mind are crumbling and vacant,and nobody remembers her name. This is both beautiful and sad.
Take care,
Sherry
TRASK
Her memories are on the wall.
Love the multitude of images. And the author being attentive to the old lady.
Very enjoyable the ACE..