The Scene was a Hospital Room in June
the scene was set
apocalyptic feeling
dead
serious not
frivolous
strange inklings of what
the week
would bring
gnarled roots held us
audible words not needed
count them thirteen
poppies...
thirteen
poems
the week like
a dream seemed
speedy
all
passed in a flash
it
would not turn out well
epilogue blue
_____________________
_____________________
A Homecoming to One’s
Self
where is homecoming when
you have no home to come to
the old family
home where
you grew up belongs
to someone else now
other homes where you
lived for a little while
aren’t
your home either
and now the
place you hang your hat the
place you call home
is the place
you come home to everyday
maybe when it
happens everyday it’s
not so special....or maybe it is
but we take it for granted
all the old
folks are gone now maybe
a problem of getting old
homecomeing is returning to
yourself alone
October 25,
2014
October 25, 2014
14 comments:
How effortlessly this reads...and describes the epilogue blue...i would imagine you have replayed the scene many times..here it comes out to us so very clear..and dignified...although such a terrible loss x (I am liking how you are formatting your words at the moment)
our world is so fast-paced nowadays - people move so often that they don't have time to grow roots
it's tough when we lose family and friends and having those place of home in ourselves maybe makes it a bit easier....
To stay at one place.. that sounds like a dream in a way.. maybe that will only happen when I'm withered and cannot grow any longer.
I love "epilogue blue" and, in the second poem, the return to self, the looking back at homes long gone, the scattering over the years. This year the family will not have a homecoming, too much has changed in the place where we once gathered. I am looking at myself wondering where and what xmas will be for just me. Wow, how things change.
These whirl like falling leaves. I found I could read them (the second, especially) each as two different poems in one. Really well done, annell, and true, I think. Thank you.
for the first time in years, all the children & grandchildren will come to our home for Christmas; a time of celebration, of familial bonding, yet there is the never ending rivalry too, the soap opera, the circus acts, the pettiness of prides splayed on dinner tables, on old couches, on guest beds; part of being human & imperfect, of course, as we watch the grandchildren carefully, hoping they will find their own way without some to the tragedies we have weathered.
homecoming is returning to yourself alone... i think it has to come to that sooner or later for all of us, if we live long enough - a striking line
and in the first poem, very effective, the writing and the way you've laid out the lines... deeply unsettling, as such scenes can't help being
I appreciate how you share the unraveling of you grief Annell. Your first poem relives that horrible week and touches the heart of the reader.
Your second poem is sad too. Yes, I think homecoming is a return to self.
I do agree that homecoming is returning to yourself alone. So much of what we knew as 'home' in the past is now gone. We do have to find our own peace with that.
Yes.. i think 'homecoming is retiring to oneself alone'.. and finding someone there.. of comfort one knows.. and lives with as friend.. and even one's own true parent.. and friend.. who always cares.. a comfort.. no one can take away.. not even time...
And a place for so long i did no know..
exists in me.. So it is good to be home.. and even better to visit other homes..
as well..:)
where you grew up belongs to someone else...sadly true....our roots seem much more shallow these days....i walked into my grammas old house...only to find that someone else lived there...ha...home is in many ways the people...but places hold power as well...
As far as missing all those we have held hands with as they leave this realm. That missing never fades, it becomes easier to carry. Honest that is all. Wish I had written more at the time! I dove into works. Very well expressed in your write. Well Done and Good Luck on your respite.
http://matineemercy.blogspot.com/2014/07/feeble-change.html
Two very moving poems - and as someone with shallow roots myself, I can relate to this.
There is such power--and overwhelming sadness--in your final line: "epilogue blue."
Whirling Haiku
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