All the Dead Doors
By
Lisa A.Williams
All the dead doors
bolted, warped in
old time, sealed
barring entry to a
past
so keen
in fortune telling.
Stories-
long unspoken around
blazing hearths of
kin
and truth.
Fathers’ wishes-
ashes now.
Mothers’ dreams-
cold, dead bolts.
Still, if I listen
heart remembers their
old songs,
if only I could hear
the true rhythm
of their words.
'warped in old time', ' blazing hearths of kin and truth', 'heart remembers' a few of the touching phrases in this beautiful poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Janet.
DeleteEvery phrase is perfect. This is one that is so deep, and sucks my breath away. You corner the market on poignancy.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jennifer.
Deletebeautiful ... I love the way this builds to a final crescendo - "the true rhythm of their words"
ReplyDeleteReally appreciate your comment.
DeleteRemembering the past can be painful at times. If ONLY we could remember it exactly as it was! And, yes, the true rhythm of their words.
ReplyDeleteIf only we could remember. Thank you for commenting Mary.
DeleteYour poetry is beautiful. I truly love your work.
ReplyDeleteSo appreciated!
DeleteThose ending lines give this post a nice twist ~ Enjoyed this share ~
ReplyDeleteooh, I love how you did this~
ReplyDeleteI too love your voice :D
Thank you, Ella.
DeleteThis proves to me that great idea do not need tom many words to express themselves.. Profound.. :)
ReplyDeleteThis poem resonated with me strongly. My parents died four months apart, about 20 years ago; Mama's anniversary is this week. I still see her in meditations, hear her laughter, remember her drunk and telling the outrageous stories about our family. My father... I only remember the good stuff now.
ReplyDeleteI felt EVERY word of this poem, Lisa. Thanks and bless you. Amy
thank you.
DeleteWhere words draw an image.... this one cojures old phantoms swiftly till another breeze breaks da charm from nostalgia to reality... truely amazin.. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you.
Delete