The Void of Yesterdays

 

Peering around the smooth worn edge

of a door worked by hand, from Oak

stained in the shade of watered down coffee,

she looked like a child despite her years--

all wide eyes and carelessly pinned hair.

 

From inside she watched the scene

of mothers leaning on fathers, and children

running wild in their best dress, new shoes

on wet grass, burnt yellow and tan,

little hands on watermelon slices, sweet

syrup smudged faces beaming like the sun.

 

She wanted to swim away through the thick

Thursday morning air, past the neatly rowed houses 

and ribbons of faded pavement, until the voices

and intentionally uninviting conversations

were nothing more than the rustling of leaves

and the quiet singing of mountaintop breezes.

 

Absently tracing the ghost band still alive

on her ring finger, white against cream skin,

heavy with the absence of gold and diamonds,

she pretended not to hear the too loud whispers,

“Poor girl”, they said, looking through her until

she was truly lost in the void of yesterdays.

Reviews

[Marty Slevin]

An absolutely fantastic poet. Amazing.

[~The Queen~]

Wow. very good. lots of detail to the feeling and the description to things. I liked the end where you gave us the reason why you named the poem what you did. very well done.

[JRB]

this was really a nice write, keep up the work,
jan/uisiom

[Steve Thompson]

very interesting

[Pax Analog]

Wow! Not only does this piece sing, but it has the arresting quality of what I like to call "power parable" -- meaning sudden reverb of meanings, with juice.

And it touches a heart chord of empathy. Lingers like a well-timed psych photo.

And I've begun to feel more the "burnished" glow of your being and work, something like a blazing copper-gold sunset in a Turner painting.

Pax

[Gandré]

Again, empathetic and reif, all your narrative gifts here, you demonstrate your ability to to convey the inner workings of a memory with convincing authenticity of feeling. this poem was writting a way so that I have seen a movie while reading a poem.

[Last Remnant]

Powerful poem. You picked the right word choices and the rhythm and sounds of the syllables (and the drumming of the syllables) really flowed into the conclusion.

[Donald Meikle]

Wow. I stopped to read in response to your review. I'm hooked. This tells it like it is (once you get into it) and hammers it home to perfection

[verano]

I really like the way that your words paint this portrait of lost love. There are lots of concrete images, each precisely detailed, that together bring the scene to life for the reader.

[Michael X]

I loved it, its well worded, and concentated.Quite detailed and liberated in flow,
and style, a telling of the heart, expressed with passionate, colorful creativeness.