| Whistling Past Graveyards (revised)
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Isabelle5
| Sunny day, enjoying the scent of honeysuckle | 1 |
growing wild at the edge of the road. | 2 |
Familiar sites, as this has always been my home. | 3 |
Ancestral gravestones mossed with age, | 4 |
my great-grandparents lie here, | 5 |
faded names and histories | 6 |
of once vibrant souls, | 7 |
now their bones sleep quietly | 8 |
below the green. | 9 |
I walk among them, | 10 |
patting stone and say Hello, | 11 |
wondering if I wear her eyes, his smile, | 12 |
knowing that I bleed their blood. | 13 |
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A sudden shiver while | 14 |
passing through a sunbeam; | 15 |
I walk past the somber iron gate, | 16 |
my pace just a little quicker, | 17 |
a melody from childhood - | 18 |
“Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf” - | 19 |
puckering my lips, | 20 |
while my wide-awake eyes | 21 |
turn back and watch the road | 22 |
beneath my feet, | 23 |
my warm and living feet, | 24 |
imagining the face of a child | 25 |
who will one day wear my bones | 26 |
beneath her eyes and the smile | 27 |
of the man I've yet to meet. | 28 |
| 14 Sep 05 |
Rated 8.5 (8.1) by 6 users.
Active (6): 1, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9 Inactive (13): 1, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (define the words in this poem)
(248 more poems by this author)
(1 user considers this poem a favorite)
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Comments:
:) whose afraid of Virginia Woolf, nice poem, well described. — Roz
Oh, thank you. I revised it and I like it much better myself. — Isabelle5
Isabelle5 I love the imagery and the narative of this poem. Maybe I'm reading it wrong, but the rythm seemed off. It kept breaking my ability to really get into this. Maybe its puntuation, Try reading it to yourself and make sure your breaking right with what you hear. I love this idea though so if I'm reading it wrong don't take offense. — voice1
Well, I didn't write with a rythmn in mind, just trying to give a sense of strolling along a country road on a sunny day, wandering around the graveyard feeling the invisible stands of ancestry tugging at your hands, then suddenly realizing that even though you are not afraid to be there among your dead, you want to leave it, knowing someday a little girl might wander and say hello to your resting ghost.
No form, just flow.
I'm glad you liked it. — Isabelle5
should that be 'sights' in line 3?
everything else is reminiscient in the future tense.
grin.
midare — midare
L4 'mossed' doesn't work as a verb — unknown
Sites. Places familiar, passing things that have always been there, will always be there, such as the honeysuckle vines along the roadside. But I know, it could go either way, sight or site.
Mossed works very well as a sort of combined verb/adjective in this case, I feel. That's why I used it. I considered "greened" but I think mossed is better here. — Isabelle5
'puckering my lips' odd
L26 bones are not worn — unknown
i really enjoyed this =) — rodney
too much use of 'wear' — unknown
The first line struck home with me immediately, the honeysuckle scent reminds me of my childhood and staying out late on a summer holidays evening.
The last line somehow struck me as a little hopeless, as if you lack hope and are consigned to accepting any man instead of the right man. It also leaves me feeling sorry for the little girl as the implication is that he is no longer around and doesn’t really feature in her life. The general tone of the piece doesn’t give me the impression that you intended to evoke these type of feelings, a lighter ending might be better suited – maybe: beneath my eyes and her daddy’s man's smile.
Anyway just a thought and love it anyway. — hobby
opps didn't mean to include the word man above! — unknown
vivid and chilling. i like it! — jittery
The last line was to imply that I have not yet met the man who will become the other half of my children. It's supposed to be a very hopeful line, knowing that somewhere out "there" is the man who will complete that half I lack and our children will be both of us. — Isabelle5
it should be patting stones and saying hello
this is really lovely, Isa. — themolly
Well, I was thinking not patting individual stones but stone, the substance of a graveyard. Dirt and stone, pretty much all there is except for sporadic glories of flowers.
But the fact that you caught that subtle difference in wording shows that you are really into what this site is about and I commend you for that. — Isabelle5
I've changed the ending. Is it more clear that the child to come will be the blend of the woman and her future mate? — Isabelle5
it is better — themolly
Yes this ending is much better, a totally different feel from the original. — hobby
creepy graveyards, the fact that u put urself in you grandparents shoes and that one day ur child will be walking pass this same graveyard, wearing your eyes ect ect ect, Brilliant!
another one to my favourite collection — Odin
Yes, Odin, graveyards, a place where you must NEVER GO! (grins) — Isabelle5
i love L10 through 13...this is beautiful Isabelle. — Gabriella
Thank you for the kind comments on this piece. I was trying for the sense of an old graveyard, one like on the East Coast, a community church graveyard, where you know most of the people in it and have heard of all the ancestors buried there. — Isabelle5
Nice and a bit haunting, forced to face mortality and time, an eerie feeling! — wamblicante
bravo. I like this a lot — Trish77
Bravo!
You've achieved something quite wonderful here; a nod to our connection to past generations and the strength of voice to say, we (all of us) are but links in a chain, which (powers that be, willing) shall continue on.
Sometimes, poetry dealing with this theme gets stuck with the notion that the person of the present, reflecting on the past, holds a position of greater importance or authority than those of the past...or of those in the future.
Your piece is cognizant of all the players and has relieved itself of the burden that self-absorbtion carries.
Thank you for a refreshing spin on an age old reflection.
RandiSusan
— RandiSusan
Thank you for the comment, Randisusan. I love old graveyards and wonder a lot not only about my ancestors but those who will come behind me, wondering if they will be curious about me at all.
Imc — Isabelle5
Isabelle. I like this story and the imagery very much. I tripped on 'sleeping' and wonder if it might read
now their bones (are) sleeping quietly 8
below the green.
or
now their bones, sleep quietly
below the green.
Del — Delorable
or even without the comma
now their bones (sleep) quietly 8
below the green. — Delorable
Good point about sleeping. I changed it. — Isabelle5
It is a very, very good idea. The wording is very inconsistent in parts.
Tweak.
-Zr — unknown
"Wording is inconsistent in parts" doesn't tell me much. — Isabelle5
I never get tired of reading this fine example of poetry! — thematrix
gosh... some people and their unthought-through negative comments...
:)
this is ammaazing... i like it much. its easy, breezy, sweet imagery... and mossed CAN be a verb. :)
so very, very nice
-misspanda — unknown
It's very good.
Some strange way, it can make you happy when you are sad.
Maybe you didn't notice, but I find a spot of light in it. — Pinkeltje
steping on the cracks?
one eyed jack. — kimado
I LOVE cemeteries. I just don't like wakes, funerals or burials. — starr
This is very good. I love the interplay between the different generations of your family. — RageKing
Hauntingly beautiful — mkdt33
great — unknown
A bit haunting but nice. The narative is good. Some inconsistentcies in the wording. But not bad. — Steeleman
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