She pushes past coats in the wardrobe, like Lucy seeking light from the lamp post
that stands stalwart,
looks to the whirl of flakes in that hidden place,
the unfolding mystery of choreography
It’s a struggle to the center of things because this room
with wood floors and long drapes is not all,
and a near middle-aged lady too can wonder what lives beyond
woolen and water-repellant nylon and
long ago scents of mothballs,
through that door
In the late afternoon, this same woman might watch water
run down a cutting board for longer than you might imagine,
rivulets cutting lines through her middle,
lost at the kitchen sink in thoughts of aches that don’t fade
and ways humans stuff holes with dirty rags
to keep the wind from rushing in straight,
and she’ll sway
And later she might find herself sitting behind a closed bedroom door
for silence sake listening
to clattering branches and roars that force themselves down streets,
waiting for a storm and snow to fill holes,
make a scribbled page fresh
_______________
Linking with Jennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory and Tweetspeak Poetry with their prompt, Dancers and Doors.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
So beautiful! I really love this, the parallels between Lucy, kitchen chores and writing, so powerful. And its speaking to me of longing? Seems to remind me of the clouds post of yours. I love the connection. :)
Yes, indeed, girl. Longing, longing, more longing. I’m carrying it with me everywhere…and into the arms of my old friend, poetry. Thank you for the encouragement.
Bravo! I absolutely love this! I too have lingered at the kitchen sink to watch the rivulets as my mind goes oh so many places….
Love to you Ashley,
Kelly
beautiful images. love this.
Thanks, Jen. xoxo
I wondered if you and I might have that in common, Kelly — dreamers that we are. Thank you for being here, friend. Much love.
I keep reading over and over, savoring every word and line. I kind of stopped at pushing past coats on a repeat read-through, connecting that phrase to the peeling coats of paint on the beautiful door. And then moving through it all from stuffing holes with dirty rags. to storms filling holes, and making a scribbled page fresh. Beautiful writing.
I love what you pulled out in “pushing past coats” and “holes.” It’s always a joy to see what others see. Thank you for savoring, Sandra — that means so much to me. I appreciate you being here. (And such a great prompt, too!)
This is lovely Ashley. May I ask, is this a specific type of poetry or is it what would be called “freestyle”? Just curious as I am kind of a newbie wanna-be poet. :)
Oh, Rebekah!! Do give it a whirl. And I encourage you to check out Tweetspeak Poetry’s site. There’s such great encouragement/prompts/etc. there for newbies like us. :)
For me, there’s something different engaged in my brain when I write poetry. It’s harder for me than the regular prose I tend toward, but it’s similar to music for me where God draws forth deeper truths and seemingly unconnected places through it.
I am not at ALL a poetry expert, but I do think this piece would fall under the category of “free verse,” which is defined as poetry that does not rhyme or have a regular meter.
Bless you in your writing journey, and thanks for your comment.
Thanks Ashley! I am drawn to poetry for some reason, something deep and beautiful about it. Also, loved your letter to your husband today and you also prompted me to write my own and link up with Amber. It was fun.
This poem is so richly, moodily layered and textured. (How beautifully the door supports it!) I’ve read it again and again, and as Sandra said, am still savoring it! You know how a really good bite may touch every area of the tongue, lighting up different taste buds everywhere? Your poem is doing this for me – so much so I don’t want to swallow! :)
The sense that I’m left with is this : there is a deep calling, mournful but not sad (which makes no sense of course, but that’s how it seems), a yearning but at the same time it’s a yearning already fulfilled only just not fully visible yet….so in a way it feels like a birth of something extra-ordinary is imminent (how appropriate again the door and the wardrobe and the mystery). I’m so very excited for you and for what is to come. xoxo!
I think in all that I failed to mention – I adore this poem Ashley!!
Ahhh, Ashley…I love the poet in you…thank you for meeting my soul with your words.
Thank you for encouraging the poet in me. She loves you too.
Oh. Sigh. Ashley, I’m just in love with every unique way you make a scribbled page fresh. I’m simply savoring this tonight.
Wow. Thank you, my friend. I so loved writing this.
Rebekah, I’m so happy to hear that you wrote your own letter. It was fun, wasn’t it? I need to go check that out. :-) Happy poetry!