Your ghost hides in corners of our wrinkled sheets
reaching out transparent hands to grasp at my foolishness.
I've never enjoyed swimming naked in guilt's sea -
It leaves me dripping remorse.
It seems, death's formidable grip can trump a full hand
of indifference every time.
The mundane, repetitious days of our existence
held me in perspective as one
too ambivalent to shake his disembodied shoulders.
The scent of your demise to me seemed innocuous -
fleeting, and unable to bloom;
But, flowers - I've discovered - are fragile things
that in a short period of time
will die from the slightest chill.
And I...unbelievably -
immersed in my neglectful, narrow corner -
unable to sympathize or relate to simple needs -
never noticed at all -
your petals -
falling one by one.
How often have men picked their flower in life only to ignore her later through the trials of marriage? Her tears like petals have fallen. Now, through her absence, he realizes too late, what he has done: Disregarded and Ignored his soul mate.
Note to self: Changed the picture and a couple of words.
A quick note:
~~This is by far my most popular poem. And yet, it didn't start that way. Many young people are offended by advice or suggestions from others. They feel insulted that someone would critique their writing.
As for me, I came here not just to share my writing but to learn as well. If it wasn't for suggestions from Rick Puetter and Girl Friday (see below) I don't think the poem would have been as good. The poet Richard also helped me fine tune the poem and it is now--after all these years--(in my mind) complete.
We can always learn from other people as long as we know they have more experience and know-how than us.~~
My Review
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Relic,
Your observations, insights and commentary are perfectly on point!
Vol
Posted 2 Months Ago
2 Months Ago
Thanks so much, Vol. Years ago when this was posted it was on another account. It had over 100 comme.. read moreThanks so much, Vol. Years ago when this was posted it was on another account. It had over 100 comments before I switched it to this account. I'm very fortunate people still like it.
Grief can spawn many things, and guilt is one of them. A part of the mind is quick to look back in judgment and hold court on perceived sins of commission or omission. Often this Monday morning quarterbacking is overdone, and I suspect that's the case here. The fact is we could all have done either more or less in any given situation, but obsessing over it does not bring back the dead.
Sometimes poems can be altered and perhaps to determine the how is the why. I would rather amend or 'fix' a poem depending of the reasons why. So yes, I agree that input from others is important. And how we give input should also be done 'constructively' and with common sense. Many times the giving thereof can be narrow minded, one tracked, and uneducated in terms of the scope of the varying elements and circumstances that led up to a particular poem taking its present form. It's not an easy art and with all the input available to us the art of self-criticism is one most vital I believe, not criticising the self but the poem by the poet themselves with the support of helpful outside voices. Hope that made sense.
I came for the same reason - for criticism to help me improve. I am happy to see someone else shares that reason.
Btw, this again is a well-crafted poem. If you want to see one of mine, it is bring published tomorrow on New Verse News website.
W.
How often this occurs when we lose a loved one; realize that we didn't give them the attention they deserved. Very nicely written. Thanks for sharing. Temp
How could a man see he is losing something? Or maybe didn’t want to see it and believe it is going to end empty handed…. Sad, I could feel the pain of an assumed loss, and the pain that caused the loss on the other side of this story…. And it’s still in human nature, people foolishly learning the hard way
Ah, all the while we paint corners in bedclothes that reap a poem full of mankind's shortcomings. I love the visuals all the way through, but like the wine, you saved the best for last: "And I... unbelievably -
immersed in my neglectful, narrow corner -
unable to sympathize or relate to simple needs -
never noticed at all -
your petals -
falling one by one."