I still have them somewhere
those shells collected so carefully
the small round smooth snails
which when wet were every colour
from primrose through daffodil
to egg yolk and orange
and what in the paintbox was called Burnt Sienna
in rock pools brushed by red seaweed
scuttled over by tiny transparent crabs
they glowed
but once at home when dry
they were beige and chalky
dull off-white and scuffed tan
I had spent hours picking them out of the water
and bringing them to where they would look dull..
.
18 comments:
Oh all right then, don't comment:)
I know it's a bit depressing, but poetry's like that sometimes.
I've tried everything to bring the colours to life when you get the shells and pebbles home. The big Ikea bowl with salt water - made the cats sick! A little pretty bottle with shells in - broke it when cleaning.
Truth is, they look best at the beach. It's like trying to recapture the essence of your favourite band live. The vinyl is never the same.
zeph,
Yes, depressing is exactly why I didn't comment immediately ;)
I should have, however, as I think it's excellent work.
And mimi's comment is the perfect epilogue.
And now I've ruined it. Sorry!
Thanks mac and mimi - it is a downbeat little pome but it reflects one of life's depressing truths!
Once when I was a kid I tried varnishing the shells, it brought the colour up but they looked artificial. Basically, as mimi says, you have to just leave them at the beach and go there to look at them.
Hi Zeph,
offside asked me to pass on his regards. He couldn't comment earlier as he was down at the beach, collecting shells.
Maybe tomorrow, he said.
Thank you Zeph...
I still have them somewhere
bleached and crumpled
in a motorcycle pack
and
carried away by some other rider
I once was..
and flicking through them
coloured only by memory
in a fragmented haze
and
in the faded blue of
dreams
I once had...
three children
who scampered through my fingers
as if I were one of them
enough
to let them go...
and now they are remade somewhere
shining and swollen
astride their lives
and
rushing further into my past
those shells I gave away...
and Zephie whilst you have me inspired:
I found her,
found her gone, and found myself again,
alone and foundered in her skitty lens.
like a visitor she drifted past my screen
in hurried stooping gestures as though
that camera weighed her down
and all the food she ate
as if I were a harvest,
and
impatiently my greenery, my luscious scene,
was invaded by her flurried show
and impressions of a fleeting gown
stooped over by the weight
of her omnivorous debate
with everything
and then she was gone
just as I'd folded her within my dream;
she killed her being like an undertow
where laughter fights above a frown,
and nailed to the gate
a pack of photographs;
her symphony of love at last and not too late
Vive le Doc!
Vive le doc, indeedie.
These poems should be entries of their own, but rich and welcomed anywhere.
Lovely to have you back M le Docteur. You've been missed.
Absolutely, great to have you back Doc, and I'm glad my shells inspired you to such lovely stuff.
ah beautiful people...
hounoured to be back in the paddock of peace...
must read mimi's new one...
love to all
cheers
Doc
love the colours Zeph, and a great choice of pic too.
ah the transience of beauty, as if shells have seasons too, tho even the dull ones recall the colours in our minds eye, which live as long as we do; the subjective ever
that's a great 'bounce' too Doctor, our prized shells; our children, aren't we all just fossils of the future?
Thanks Filo!
Le filou, le doc... hang on, is it halloween or what?
ah yes; all saints day, I see what you mean cher Off
All Saints/Halloween, no idea the difference. Just worried tonight about making sure the furs are home as fireworks have started, and I don't trust fireworks.
I thought I left a comment here days ago, but apparently I did not...very true poem, but mostly I just wanted to say that the picture reminds me of tropical fruits.
Doc, File, hello! "fossils of the future" is spoooooky.
All Saints = papist, Halloween = heathen, all the difference in the world.
Le retour des morts-vivants, oui.
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