Saturday, October 10, 2015

Three Poems on Loss






The Morgue File



i am hollowed out
 your bones nestle
down next to mine

 an uncharted map





iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii




The Morgue File


perhaps it is the sun
which will steal you away
old bones 
warming




iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii




The Morgue File


i search. 
endings veiled
in  obtuse emotions,

my guide.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

Posted for Kerry's prompt for mini poems at the garden

I will be 60 soon. My constant companion is 13.  I sometimes think that growing older is a lesson on continued loss--peeling one layer back at a time, until not much is left. Maybe that makes it easier to leave when the time comes. I don't know, but as #60 approaches, I think about it.


18 comments:

  1. Ahh Audrey - each offering is haunting and lovely - the accompanying images are brilliant - Your end note in terms of peeling back layers of continuing loss is so very lonely and yet perhaps at the core of the falling layers is not only an easier leaving when the time comes but some greater truth that we cannot even begin to imagine... just a thought... lovely lyrics

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  2. The sadness of that impending loss is palpable Audrey ~ Each stanza is moving to read, a gem ~

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  3. the poem reminds me of the Fall, beautiful, misty and inevitable...

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  4. I like your morgue, Audrey. Probably the first was my fave. Love those bones nestled up.
    BTW, is the dog your thirteen year old companion? I envy you, mine have died and my last companion says we can't have any more.
    ..

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  5. The thought of aging, it's so much more clear now when autumn come.. The thought of leaves falling and that peeling... Love the set of poem.

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  6. Yes, one does think of these things as one ages ... and as those special companions age. There is no help for it – but the poems and pictures are all striking, nigh-on perfect.

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  7. You plumbed the depths of loss so well in so few lines - I have been moved to tears. Yes, the inventory of loss increases with each passing year.

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  8. That path we walk to the end of days is full of shadows of the past--I don't know if we lose them as we peel, or if they replace instead some current substance--your micropoems float that veil on time's wind perfectly.

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  9. Simple piece, yet the vividness sprouts up like seeds germinating. Everything comes to the finish line in the end. The depth we sink into only increases with age and time.

    It makes for such fine reading, well done!

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  10. I think about it too, Audrey! 67 is two days away and you best believe it is on my mind. :)

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  11. I just lost my own constant companion last year, but I have a new one, who makes me smile anew. I still miss the old one and always will, but this new girl has her own charms. She thinks she's pretty tough, shaking her half-deflated soccer ball very ferociously at the neighbor dog, her pal behind us.

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  12. This are lovely . . . like gossamer, I think. And, very moving.

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  13. I so feel these poems, Audrey, remembering Pup at thirteen, then fourteen, knowing our days were numbered. So sad. I especially love "perhaps it is the sun/that will steal you away/old bones warming."

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  14. I love the unmappable bones of two skeletons blending! And the sun as thief, and endings as an obscured guide. Death reads as a kind of stark and warmed beauty here.

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  15. I love these! I can feel the sadness of your loss seeping out of each poem. So much emotion. Which for me is what poetry really is - the poignant, articulation of what we see, feel, hear and do.

    I thought that I would be sad when I turned 30 - never happened. At 50 I was given a wonderful party. I never gave much thought to 60 and was depressed for 5 years. Now I tell everyone how excited I am about turning 70 next year. Of course I guess that I ought wait to turn 69 this November before I turn 70 next year.

    Happy birthday to you when it comes - please celebrate!

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  16. Old age has crept upon me too. That said I do not fear death, determined as I am to live for at least another two decades!
    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

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  17. Very evocative, soulful words in each of these pieces. The first one really resonated with me ... though, I'm not at all sure why.

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