Moving Day

“Operator, well let’s forget about this call
There’s no one there I really wanted to talk to. “
Jim Croce

I watch dusk take over the yard,
shadows grow where once her
rose bush had consumed the fence,
intertwining with the chain.

Inside, memories collect like dust
in the empty rooms.

Colored pencils rest in a coffee can
next to the easel. I can still trace
the lines where we used
them on the wall. Admonished,
more for using the good pencils
than for the wall.

A hand written recipe book,
pantry essentials listed on
the back cover, each page
a link to a meal, a holiday,
a laugh.

There is an empty place
on the mantelpiece. We
were forgiven for breaking
her mother’s vase, but it
was never replaced.

Full dark envelops the house
as I leave, returning it to the
realm of its ghosts.

Written for the Sunday Whirl, and goes well with The Mag prompt as well.

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32 Comments

Filed under Poetry

32 responses to “Moving Day

  1. Leo

    Very nice; sometimes it’s the smallest details that affect us the most.

  2. Nice write, Mark. I love the last stanza….beautiful!
    psssst…did you mean pantry essentials? A Freudian slip? 😉

  3. This makes me feel sad, moving day is always sad.

  4. Nice poem filled with memories, Mark. I also was wondering about the word “panty”, but wasn’t going to bring it up 😉 Thanks Brenda for the smile.

    Pamela

  5. once again, well-done….the atmosphere reeks of memories and loss….now about those ‘panties’……

  6. I got a clear sense of the woman, the mother, in the lines about being in trouble for using the good pencils, the recipe book, the broken vase. Are you sure this was a wordle? It stands so well on its own (and I love Jim Croce’s music).

  7. Interesting mood piece, and well written.

  8. well done Mark…thanks for sharing your words

  9. This is filled with a sweet, almost melancholy sadness of things recalled throughout the years–links to holidays, a long broken treasure, markings on the wall. All things found in a house where life was well-lived. Beautiful capture, Mark.

  10. Such a nostalgic piece with telling details Mark … very well done …

    http://seingrahamsays.wordpress.com/2012/08/26/shifting-colours/

  11. A meal…a holiday…a laugh…we all cherish those memories…lovely write…

  12. Linda Fraser

    I love Jim Croce and the poem you’ve shared here Mark. The little details are so vividly real and missing now. A beautiful sadness about moving on. Thanks. =D

  13. Wonderful combination of the prompts, Mark. I really like this. It has a nostagic feel and is so vivid. I love the personification of dusk.

  14. Ritva

    “returning it to the realm of its ghosts” blew my mind.

  15. What Ritva said. The chill of that hearkening back to my own most recent move. A dark beauty, this poem.

  16. the images are so vivid in this. really nice writing.

  17. Just stunning -literally I paused as each new image hit and then tears of loss for what I had not had before reading your poem and had now lost after finishing. Bravo

  18. This is really special – the nicest poem using those dratted Wordle words that I have read.

  19. I see the empty space on the mantelpiece ~ truly evocative poetry

  20. Very nice, like the details of this “realm of ghosts”

  21. Helen

    You have reminded me of how much angst goes along with ‘moving day.’

  22. hypercryptical

    Well crafted. So many memories remain in rooms such as this…

    Anna :o]

  23. I love the hand written recipe book, and the tone of your ending.

  24. This is a delight, nostalgic without sentimentality, loving without gushiness… and clear eyed, vivid, touching. Just lovely.

  25. I, too, am partial to Jim Croce. And, yes, I see where the missing vase should be. Enjoyed!

  26. I like this very much, especially “Inside, memories collect like dust
    in the empty rooms.” I know you meant inside the house, but I also read it as inside the mind/heart. Also, I love the part about the art pencils, the way you shared so much of her history in so few words … and the haunting ending: “returning it to the realm of its ghosts.” I picture this as being about Mother having Alzheimer’s and having to move into a nursing home … only a ghost of a person left. I think you picture the parents having died, and perhaps you are writing about moving on after losing your own parents. But I do see additional possibilities in the dusty memories. And also in a family’s ghosts. A lot to envision between the lines, the rest of the story.

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

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