by Rachna K.
I wish every place said something:
he was born here; here she looked at him;
here they drank, conceived a dream and
later, buried their wedding rings.
Beware of open diaries and book blight.
Caution: jars of memories float between fallen
forks and knives. Here is where he broke her heart.
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Published in Blue Bonnet Review
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Conceived a dream = Many, many signs.*
I believe every place does say something, to you, Tara. Grateful you're our medium. *****
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The last stanza's my fave.
I feel both sad and hopeful reading this. *
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Thank you all.
* I like that opening line a great deal.
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That longing to have meant something along the way.
Magnificent poetry. "*"
Lovely weight to these lines.
Thanks all!
I like it.
Yes this one resonates closer to some place I supposedly knew once. How can I qualify that obscurity? Because the words inspire. *
This is very elegant. Simply written and compressive without lapsing into sentimental cliché.
I love this.
Amongst the many great lines:
'Caution: jars of memories float between fallen forks and knives.'
Wonderful final verse.
Thanks Ellie.
"Beware of open diaries and book blight." Wow. One suggestion: perhaps you don't need "Here is where he broke her heart," ? -- all the action conveys the implied heartbreak. Plus 'forks and knives' is the 'cut.' I love that is so clear-eyed, rather than sentimental. A really fine work.
Philip, thanks! Just saw your comment and suggestion. Makes sense. Appreciate it very much.