New words from Brenda and the Sunday Whirl:
seeps, shadowy, scorched, smudgy,
nestled, bizarre, ghosts, know,
whistle, restless, balance, sores, straps
Four shrill whistles
signal the arrival
of the Sunset Limited
as it roars through town.
Smudgy shadows seep across
sun scorched front yards, the city
pants in August hot twilight,
and her dead father, restless ghost,
waits half-hidden beside the magnolia.
How is it that he knows to come today,
destroying the balance and peace
she has gained these past months.
Her spirit is still sore, bruised from
the bizarre insanity filling
the broken cistern of her life.
Contemptuous, he glares, while
she flounders in glittery failure.
15 comments:
Ohh, how sad. Especially to have him come back and haunt her after having suffered so much in the first place.
Deeply emotional write. Hits home because of my own childhood.
A mournful piece, Marianne. Very well done. I love this part;
"Her spirit is still sore, bruised from the bizarre insanity filling
the broken cistern of her life.
He stands there, taunting, while
she flounders in glittery failure"
Pamela
Sanity is relative - that our families should be allowed to be judge and jury, when the most we wish for is their unconditional support.
Well grieving can be like that... three steps forward and one step back... ghosts make it all the more difficult.
"while she flounders in glittery failure," is all too familiar to me when I think of my father. This line sunk my spirit. Excellent write, Marianne. I was hoping for some interesting ghosts this week, and yours delivers.
I love "the broken cistern of her life." ouch.
Your poem spoke right to my heart. I too, wrote about my father.
What a story. I love the cistern. Guess it's the magnolia, but it makes me think of Flannery O'Connor's grotesques.
"Smudgy shadows seep across
sun scorched front yards..."
For each one of us who has commented there has been something that sat strongly with us. You carry us into a place that each of us knows in one way or another. Well done.
So tragic. Heartbreaking.
Your setting is so strongly established, I feel as if I have a painting in front of me.
The focus of the poem reminds me of a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson which you can read here: http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/robinson/9051
Nicely done, Marianne.
margo
Nice Dad and very good poem! Good use of the words too.
This is a definite WOW .... from the Sunset Limited all the way through... what a ride!
I also loved the line "the broken cistern of her life." Great alliteration toward the end, helps to add a bit to the tension. Nice write!
WOW! very haunting. I am enjoying the wide expanse of thought this selection of wordles in inspiring~
Marianne, such great imagery. I liked "half-hidden beside the magnolia". Those restless ghosts haunt many.
Richard
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