Frames

Written for the Sunday Whirl Wordle. The words kept bringing the idea of ‘memories’ to mind, so I (borrowed, stole –seems harsh) was inspired by (thats it) Margo’s poem from a couple of weeks ago about someone trying to piece together their memories. This is my take on the same basic subject.

Frames

Sunday drives, yes,
that is how it all started,
holding her hand and
singing along with the radio.

The delivery of a little girl,
scared to even carry her,
knowing joy, fear, pride, love
greater than anything previous.

Formless clay ashtrays —
‘oh, of course it’s a turtle’
fresh picked dandelions,
precious gestures of a child.

Tantrums, foot stomps, door slams,
the drama of hormones raging,
straining against every limit;
the trials inherent in teen girls.

Beauty in a white dress,
much too soon for Father,
But she is radiant, in love,
ready for the next stage of life.

These hallways are my memories,
framed pictures the sources
of everything I am supposed to remember,
the ghost that never follows.

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13 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

13 responses to “Frames

  1. Beautiful. The last stanza pulls at my heart.

  2. This is my absolute favorite piece you have written yet! Maybe because it resonates so deeply with me. Haunting and familiar. I adore this so very much! Now, I know for a fact you will enjoy my book! This proves it! I do hope you will get a copy… I think you will be very surprised to find just how closely we relate in both feelings about things and the way we put them to paper. Sigh. In love with this!!!!!!! I have to go read it again now…

  3. “These hallways are my memories…”

    ahhhh, I so know this well.

    Just as amazing the second time. ♥

  4. This is so precious. I never had a daughter but I remember being one. You said it well.

  5. magicalmysticalteacher

    “everything I am supposed to know”

    Why is it, I wonder, that parents think they need to know everything? The older I grow, the more I know that I know very little—especially about being a parent!

    Whirling Haiku

  6. Thank you all for your comments. I realized after reading a couple of them and then re-reading that I was not getting across what I wanted. I changed one word which I think makes it clearer. “Remember’ used to be ‘know.

  7. You write such beautiful stuff when you write about your daughters Mark, so much feeling and depth – this is lovely …

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2012/03/down-hallways-of-motherhood.html

  8. I know it’s been said a thousand times, but it’s true: they do grow up so fast, too fast.
    Enjoyed your poem very much.

  9. I didn’t even see the wordle words I was so intent on the poem. Loved these lines:
    Formless clay ashtrays โ€“
    โ€˜oh, of course itโ€™s a turtle

    I still have some of those ‘turtles’.

    • Thank you. It is still not quite what I intended (maybe not a bad thing). Thinking the last stanza should come first with something different at the end. or…or…or….. Maybe it should breathe. ๐Ÿ™‚

      • Shift the last stanza to the first. Then leave it to breathe. When you come back to it, your brain will see the new start fresh and you’ll know whether you like it. Right off the bat, I like the shift ๐Ÿ™‚

  10. Poignant. Gives me an idea I shall ponder for a future poem…(I think that would be called “borrowing forward”???) ๐Ÿ˜‰

  11. Only having sons myself…I pretended that my father wrote this piece. I knew he wrote… though I never did get the chance to read anything he produce.
    Thank you.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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