© RH Peat 7/15/2011 4:45pm
Form: 2 tercets/ 6 lines.
Metaphor: wind like memory/ kiss like blood
Your Whispered Name
Your Whispered Name
The wind drives the dry leaves in Autumn
to skid into the crack beneath my door.
Jammed there, they crumble in your memory
Your last remembered kiss is spilt red wine
on a smoothed linen table cloth. I listen
to the scrape in the wind, a sanguine stain.
© RH Peat 7/15/2011
TinaD
Sometimes the memories bring so much pain.
Sometimes the memories bring so much pain.
Nikunj
The sangiine stains of time scrape the seemingly smooth surfaces , to bring out the layers that have fossilised in the rigmaroles of daily rituals .....the images are soft yet they make a strong impression on the mind ...good one yet again ...
The sangiine stains of time scrape the seemingly smooth surfaces , to bring out the layers that have fossilised in the rigmaroles of daily rituals .....the images are soft yet they make a strong impression on the mind ...good one yet again ...
Dorothy A. Holmes apwlts2
You have awakened a memory I thought forgot...Just lovely Mr. Peat...A heart tender. Dorothy A Poet Who Sings on Sundays too
You have awakened a memory I thought forgot...Just lovely Mr. Peat...A heart tender. Dorothy A Poet Who Sings on Sundays too
Dorothy A. Holmes apwlts2
You have awakened a memory I thought forgot...Just lovely Mr. Peat...A heart tender. Dorothy A Poet Who Sings on Sundays too
You have awakened a memory I thought forgot...Just lovely Mr. Peat...A heart tender. Dorothy A Poet Who Sings on Sundays too
Debs
Wow this is excellent penning Ron, with such deep meaning in it.
Wow this is excellent penning Ron, with such deep meaning in it.
erik99
As two separate poems, these stanzas would be brilliant. The combination doesn't just add the effects of the two, it multiplies them, and as Kath says, there is so much unspoken emotion concealed in these few words.
As two separate poems, these stanzas would be brilliant. The combination doesn't just add the effects of the two, it multiplies them, and as Kath says, there is so much unspoken emotion concealed in these few words.
narain, jay p.
nice poem
nice poem
sonetta
memory is a bitter-sweet pill...love the crumbling dry leaves stuck in the doorway....
memory is a bitter-sweet pill...love the crumbling dry leaves stuck in the doorway....
kath
This is a consumate poem which I will tell you now that I am bookmarking Ron. There is something very special in the best poetry, and that's the ability to say more than the words. You have accomplished that here in spades. This is a bigger picture for the areas you have left unpainted, undetailed. Bravo. kath xxx
This is a consumate poem which I will tell you now that I am bookmarking Ron. There is something very special in the best poetry, and that's the ability to say more than the words. You have accomplished that here in spades. This is a bigger picture for the areas you have left unpainted, undetailed. Bravo. kath xxx
Chaos1214
If wine stains could talk...
If wine stains could talk...
sugi
two different things linked beautifully to autumn and blood..your poem has two bodies and a single soul Ron..Lovely:)
two different things linked beautifully to autumn and blood..your poem has two bodies and a single soul Ron..Lovely:)
Ata
Autumn ,leaves and memories ,great imagery ,tfs
Autumn ,leaves and memories ,great imagery ,tfs
Sandra Martyres
Great write.....
Great write.....
Ron - this is stunning...I love the intense visuals: the dry crumbled leaves jammed under the door...the red wine spreading across a white linen cloth; And powerful metaphors: the linen table cloth as your memory being stained by red liquid - and that it is wine! - heady, intoxicating - lends a sensuality and depth to the memory of the kiss. Now, on to the leaves metaphor: The door strikes me as a door in your mind; closed to keep these powerfully painful memories at bay...but the very intensity of the memory nearly pushes through the door - the leaves - caught and pushed together in the little space between door and floor - And there's sound there for me: the wind and the scratch and rustle of the leaves; those memories refusing to lie quietly. I also think the word sanguine in the closing line is perfect - it brings a strong closing to this poem - the reference to blood tying in to the wine stain as well as the idea that these memories are literally in your blood. Dammit Ron, I want to write this!! LOL - A poet friend. kah/Kim