Tall, angular, white-haired;
in the few blurred images of old photos,
a grin always haunts his face.
That morning he didn’t wake for breakfast,
didn’t stir when the hounds outside
howled his name.
His favorite dog, a frantic feist, who followed his every step,
raced through the farmhouse,
searched every hallway, room and closet,
whimpered at his absence,
and ran outside to follow his master’s scentless trail.
Perhaps he found it.
No one ever saw the tiny dog again.
The plowed fields grew blossoms of silence
that ripened to memories passed on to me.
Over the years I harvested new crops of stories
from family and from randomly met friends.
I never heard a harsh word
uttered against him.
Grandfather Ghost has drifted through my life
for fifty-five years,
drawing me along my path like foxfire in darkness,
gentle poltergeist of my soul.
He dreamed his death
just before I dreamed my birth.
We waved at each other in passing.
How beautiful, "We waved at each other in passing." Perhaps not only in passing, you share a tremendous part of each other. "Drawing me along my path like foxfire in darkness." - Perhaps you are fulfilling his dream. What a wonderful tribute to him David.
David,
This is a haunting poem. Great descriptions. I like how you show the passing of time while you put pieces of the puzzle together. Excellent, and very different!
Sheila
Reviewed by Vesna Perkovic (Reader)
Reviewed on August 18, 2008
Oh THIS is powerful..
I will save this one..
exceptional piece..
Thank you David..
Blessings,
The plowed fields grew blossoms of silence
that ripened to memories passed on to me."
As i was reading your poetry, I was thinking how I was going to ask why you never post a photo, THEN I realized how your poetry never needs it(unlike others here at AD). It's a snapshot, a photo album into your life: all the images and colors are there.
"He dreamed his death
just before I dreamed my birth.
We waved at each other in passing."
And any poet who ends a poem with a power tuplet like that gets me going: 5 Stars! (this one must be in the book!)
As I read this poem, I'm looking at a family picture for my grandmother (mother's side). My great grandfather and great grandmother are surrounded by five kids--not one looks older than ten and my grandmother looks to be five or six. The day my grandmother left in her 80s, there were only a few of us that went to the funeral. I recall standing next to one of my cousins close in age to me and don't remember anyone else. I haven’t seen that cousin since and that was at last forty-five years ago. Your poems bring out memories--good ones. Thanks.
...another one of my very favorites on Authorsden. There's such a tenderness about it... the soft, muffled consonants of "f", and "th", accompanied by beautiful vowel sounds and an even more beautiful story (I especially love the ending). It all makes for the kind of omolioteleton that I absolutely love.
I am always enchanted with your poetry. I love how every line echoes sounds. Reading your poetry in my head is never good enough. I have to read it outloud.
That's what I like of your writings, that solid conviction of putting to words a firework of images and make us visualize that images going inside your head.
Excellent, we are waving back as we pass by.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
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Lily
Unique depicting with outstanding imagery with platinum closing lines (Last three.) written with flawless brilliant cut diamond letters.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Ì love the sweetness of:
"gentle poltergeist of my soul".
Axilea
This is a haunting poem. Great descriptions. I like how you show the passing of time while you put pieces of the puzzle together. Excellent, and very different!
Sheila
I will save this one..
exceptional piece..
Thank you David..
Blessings,
Vesna :)
that ripened to memories passed on to me."
As i was reading your poetry, I was thinking how I was going to ask why you never post a photo, THEN I realized how your poetry never needs it(unlike others here at AD). It's a snapshot, a photo album into your life: all the images and colors are there.
"He dreamed his death
just before I dreamed my birth.
We waved at each other in passing."
And any poet who ends a poem with a power tuplet like that gets me going: 5 Stars! (this one must be in the book!)
beautiful write David...
John
I am always enchanted with your poetry. I love how every line echoes sounds. Reading your poetry in my head is never good enough. I have to read it outloud.
...just beautiful. --Charlie
Excellent, we are waving back as we pass by.
Georg
Wonderful write.
Cheers,
Dan