Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Magpie Tales#52

Willow leaves us Magpie's Anniversary prompt this week -




Waiting

Do you remember our stone house
at the road's end, at the moor's edge
where gales raved in the sedges
where the clouds' low architraves
lay in leaden sheets, and the land
waited the primroses' return?

Do you recall the promises
we made, making the windows fast,
locking the door, locking in our words,
safe with the cobwebs and dust,
a promise to return to these
old stones, to rub the windows clean,
restock the shelves, lay warming fires?

The day we named has passed.
Rain drifts down from the distant hills.
I make my hands do their small tasks,
try not to wonder where you are.
Posted by at

23 comments:

  1. Louise9 February 2011 at 12:02

    beautifully emotive, really liked the style of it, especially liked the line' do you recall the pormises we made'.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Reflections9 February 2011 at 14:12

    Very emotional piece, memories, wondering, waiting for answers to a promise made long ago. Nice piece.

    ReplyDelete
  3. annell49 February 2011 at 14:34

    Every promise can not be kept, but instead becomes a memory forever! Nice write!

    ReplyDelete
  4. RJ Clarken9 February 2011 at 17:15

    When I read this, I felt like I was staring out of a window that was tightly fastened but not obscured by curtains, seeing the ghosts of promises past walk on by, nearly invisible, but not forgotten.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Friko9 February 2011 at 18:25

    An excellent poem, spare, moving, well imagined.
    I like your blog.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Dick Jones9 February 2011 at 18:34

    I didn't remember our stone house at the beginning, but by the end I did very clearly! A fine poem, very poignantly sewn up by the concluding stanza.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Berowne9 February 2011 at 19:07

    Beautifully written...

    ReplyDelete
  8. Susannah9 February 2011 at 19:38

    Oh this is wonderful, I loved every word. So beautiful. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Stafford Ray9 February 2011 at 20:36

    'the clouds' low architraves' is such a clever line in a poignant poem.
    How often have I looked at a distant cloud and noticed how flat they are on the bottom, like the top of a window frame, all below visible, all above blanked out.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Kristen Haskell9 February 2011 at 22:59

    This touched me. I made a promise once as a child but I did not show up. I often wonder if the other person did...

    ReplyDelete
  11. Margaret10 February 2011 at 14:01

    ..."the day we named has past". Promises made and not kept. But meant so earnestly when said. Very nice poem.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Tess Kincaid10 February 2011 at 14:27

    This is my favorite of yours to date. Gorgeous piece. The first stanza carried me away!

    ReplyDelete
  13. Trellissimo10 February 2011 at 21:25

    locking in our words,
    safe with the cobwebs and dust

    The epitome of sadness...

    ReplyDelete
  14. Suko11 February 2011 at 00:54

    Oh, lovely and wistful!

    ReplyDelete
  15. Helen11 February 2011 at 01:12

    ... locking the door, locking in our words ~ my favorite line. Beautifully written.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Doctor FTSE11 February 2011 at 10:38

    This is good. You know exactly how not to say too much,

    ReplyDelete
  17. Judy Roney11 February 2011 at 20:14

    Wow, what a poignant tale of this old house. I can see her inside, still waiting. Your descriptions are marvelous. I am there.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Peggy13 February 2011 at 17:12

    Thank you so much for stopping by my blog.
    I really appreciate it.
    Love the way you write, so moving, just lovely!

    I'm going to follow you, I want to read more.

    ReplyDelete
  19. Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall13 February 2011 at 18:42

    it is good to be reminded ...
    lovely words.

    ReplyDelete
  20. The Blog of Bee13 February 2011 at 23:11

    So beautifully written. So much emotion.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Enchanted Oak14 February 2011 at 03:13

    Oh, God, Lucy. You broke my heart. Your words are spare and tight, such a terse rhythm, self-contained and bitter to swallow. I'm glad I came today, just rather leisurely checking in with some unfamiliars who follow my blog. Look into the Poetry Bus that travels today on my blog and others. You'd be welcome there. This was very beautiful.
    Chris

    ReplyDelete
  22. Ella4 March 2011 at 14:51

    Hauntingly beautiful~

    ReplyDelete
  23. Mary5 March 2011 at 01:10

    Wonderful ending. Makes me want to know more.

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)