10.01.2017

Observations 10-1-17

It’s harder now to see
beautiful things
like exhortations to sky
in a rock song or the way the cat
licks between her toes while bathing.
These days, I might listen
to the whole record not hearing
a single word, feed kitty
when she meows but keep going.
I barely noticed various shades
of scorched grass blanketed
with wet leaves, and it must have been
before that when my foxglove browned.
I am quite aware of the cold space
on my thigh where your hand
should rest, the bitterness of each
sip of discount coffee, my tailbone.
I know that isn’t much.

Linking this up in solidarity and very, very late to Karin’s prompt in the Imaginary Garden: Thinking of the Little Things

17 comments:

  1. Even little things tell a lot if they are part of such a larger story... love it

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  2. I know how hard it is, given how distracted we are by so much being wrong, to take pleasure in the small beauties....especially when so many are suffering. Yet, I suppose we still must, for they are all around us. Thanks for this, Marian. I totally relate. Hope you are all recovering from your colds.

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  3. The majesty of simply carrying on with the whole damn thing, elegantly expressed.

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  4. I really loved the second read... and even harder to enjoy after Sunday

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  5. I love the carrying on, the going through the motions in this.

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  6. Absence takes such a huge space and time and attention... Weird thing, isn't it? One would think that something that isn't there wouldn't take so much.

    Perfect tone, for the theme.

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  7. I enjoyed your images and the despair pervading this work.You are very talented.Excellent poem.

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  8. I love this Marian! I love the detail of the cat washing between her toes being something beautiful and the way it can be overlooked when sad. I love the lines:
    '...various shades
    of scorched grass blanketed
    with wet leaves, and it must have been
    before that when my foxglove browned'
    and the awareness of 'the cold space / on my thigh where your hand / should rest'.
    Beautiful melancholy.

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  9. Keepin' on keepin' on is sometimes a forced march, robbed like autumn of sweetness and verdure. How long has it been? Noticing and not are keen here, and the absences in the final iteration are devastating. But we keep on. Great write, Marian.

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  10. This is so incredibly evocative, Marian! Especially touched by; "I barely noticed various shades of scorched grass blanketed with wet leaves, and it must have been before that when my foxglove browned." Beautifully executed.

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  11. Love that hand not on the knee and the tailbone. I feel it deep.

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  12. That is so beautifully expressed, the pain leaps out of the poem in the end.

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  13. I'm a dreamer, they might still
    be there if you close your eyes.
    A fun and thought provacative read, Marian.
    ..

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  14. I can relate to the sense of detachment in this piece, Marian. Sometimes there is too much going on inside one's head to allow much attention to be given to the little things.

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  15. I feel this. I get up, put my shoes on, and go numb into the day.

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  16. I can relate to this numbness so much. Perhaps we forget how to feel because we remember too much of the pain. Well penned.

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  17. I'm a dreamer, they might still be there if you close your eyes.


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