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Sunday, November 27, 2011

Regret

This is posted for Magpie Tales - another great photo from Tess!  Thank you, once again, Tess for hosting this.

photo: Christine Donnier-Valentin, taken from Magpie Tales




Regret

Even the bricks weep
Blackened tears of anguish
Staining regret in gentle silence.
I will not heed their sorrow
They cannot know the faded years
Scuffed velvet and the imprint
of a thousand heads against
time's listing frame.

I once took pride of place
The deep red softness
sighing treasured comfort
in cosy evenings for two by the fire.
Then crooning wearily through colicky nights
Lending my strength to nudge
solace into sleep.
Later still, gentle sponging removing
sticky jam prints to preserve
my fabric's hue
against the tide of living.
Growing, ever growing
Each passing season
Faithfully bearing
time's gradual pressure.

Some days I feel their weight
twisting these old bones beyond endurance
shrivelled and stripped bare
of cushions like an old whore
left naked in day's harsh glare
Discarded
on some forgotten side walk of life.

I stand proud, wings held high
back (almost) straight
against the uncaring whip of hours
and as the wind mocks
the loneliness of what I have become
I close my eyes to the sting
And remember what I once was.

26 comments:

rel said...

Nice observation, taking in the whole of the image: tear stained walls.
I particularliy like the metaphore:
"like an old whore
left naked in day's harsh glare
Discarded"
rel

The Cello Strings said...

deep, lovely exploration of regrets and hope.

Glad to read you via magpie tale.

:)

Laurie Kolp said...

How refreshing to read this from the sofa's POV. If only they could talk.

Jinksy said...

Your sofa tells a good tale! :)

Margaret said...

Then crooning wearily through colicky nights
Lending my strength to nudge
solace into sleep.

I loved the whore reference as well... so many great images here!

jen revved said...

Absolutely stunning, masterfully crafted, Zoe-- I especially loved:

Some days I feel their weight
twisting these old bones beyond endurance
shrivelled and stripped bare
of cushions like an old whore
left naked in day's harsh glare
Discarded
on some forgotten side walk of life.

C Hummel Kornell a/k/a C Hummel Wilson said...

Rel beat me to it but I, too, really like:


like an old whore
left naked in day's harsh glare
Discarded
on some forgotten side walk of life.

Very well done.

insanebloom said...

An absolute stunner, Zoe! Fabulous!

Isabel Doyle said...

lovely tale of life and longing

Martin said...

"...a thousand heads against
time's listing frame." Very nice.

HyperCRYPTICal said...

A lovely but sad tale from an abandoned friend.

Anna :o]

Mama Zen said...

This is so sad!

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

Very nicely done!

Shawna said...

Amen, sister. Dye your hair. It made me feel better. :)

I love this section:
"removing
sticky jam prints to preserve
my fabric's hue
against the tide of living"

I love the comparison between the couch's hue and your own.

Trellissimo said...

Well observed and well told.

Berowne said...

You have to face it, Zoe. You can write.

Brian Miller said...

nice you do a great job bringing this to life zoe...the somedays feeling the bones stanza esp...well penned...

Carrie Burtt said...

Beautiful writing!!

Suko said...

"Even the bricks weep"--lovely and wistful from the very first line.

chiccoreal said...

Dear Zoe: Particularly love;

Lending my strength to nudge solace into sleep

A very profound poem, and realized is the couch of being a part of a life well - lived, and the realization of life's inherent nature! Thank-you!

Daydreamertoo said...

You certainly spoke for the sofa. Exactly the stories they could tell if they could talk. Fabulous insight and observation.

miss pie said...

.. i will never look at a couch along the roads never the same.... i shall hear the echo of this engaging story...

Dave King said...

The first I've read to mention the stained walls - including my own. The wide sweep continues throughout. Nicely done.

zongrik said...

so sad.

great personifications

turtlememoir said...

beautifully penned - the old sofa lives still in your words

They cannot know the faded years
Scuffed velvet and the imprint
of a thousand heads against
time's listing frame.


and all the rest of it - this is a poem to read aloud, and again and again

benjity said...

Oh my goodness! Stellar as usual - a fantastic piece! Having just left my baby niece with her brand new mama (my sister) it struck a chord!
love, Abby
http://www.benjity.wordpress.com