Last Rites

[sophieloves]

you've captured how that moment made an impact on your/the narrator's senses... caught up in 'some' music, light and shade, the details of the fogging in the wine-glass... what makes it feel so real, to me as a reader, is that the woman in the poem was the focus of attention, the details pertaining to her more important than the name of the song - and yet there's almost a wistful quality present, as if the narrator needs to know the name of the song.

it's simply lovely.

 

[lorencino]

I was completely captivated by "Last Rites" and then read the rest of this thread in breathless admiration for the fresh, vigourous poetry produced by someone modestly denying that he is a poem. CicatrixESP, you are undubitably a poet and quite an accomplished one at that. I was quite excited to experience your poems.

 

[CicatrixESP]

Thank you Sophie. You rightly note who the focus is in this last one. A pleasure as always.

Lorencino, I very much appreciate that very strong compliment, and however they're interpreted, I'm very glad your enjoying my writing.

 

[Honey123]

What was that aria she sang?
It was summer on the deck
And I think it was Callas
The wine stood half-full that day
And you looked so fetching in the shade,
Half on you
It was shy, I think, to tickle such a face
And really, I think that's why the sunlight danced,
Some panoply around us
Funny how picturesque nature is
And how picturesque nature found you

You sip and giggle,
Your breath fogging the glass as you laughed,
Callas teasing birds as you moved legato
With every phrase

What was that aria she sang
That summer on the deck?
It was yours whatever it was,
Felicitous and as fine as filament,
The promise of passion,
And then the passion of fulfilling it

I can picture this in my mind...you've a wonderful way with words!

 

[CicatrixESP]

I can picture this in my mind...you've a wonderful way with words!

Thank you, H. Very kind, as always.

 

[Honey123]

Thank you, H. Very kind, as always.

I only speak the truth.

 

[Angeline]

What was that aria she sang?
It was summer on the deck
And I think it was Callas
The wine stood half-full that day
And you looked so fetching in the shade,
Half on you
It was shy, I think, to tickle such a face
And really, I think that's why the sunlight danced,
Some panoply around us
Funny how picturesque nature is
And how picturesque nature found you

You sip and giggle,
Your breath fogging the glass as you laughed,
Callas teasing birds as you moved legato
With every phrase

What was that aria she sang
That summer on the deck?
It was yours whatever it was,
Felicitous and as fine as filament,
The promise of passion,
And then the passion of fulfilling it

I really like this. It's tightly constructed and I love the way it ends. My dad was a big opera fan. and it made me think of him (and the rest of the fam) listening to Dame Joan Sutherland on the stereo. Good memories.

 

[CicatrixESP]

I really like this. It's tightly constructed and I love the way it ends. My dad was a big opera fan. and it made me think of him (and the rest of the fam) listening to Dame Joan Sutherland on the stereo. Good memories.

Thanks Angeline . I'm glad you found something you could relate to. When that occurs it often makes for an interesting read.

 

[sophieloves]

have you any more for us to read, C? it's been a little while

 

[foehn2]

I'm nodding emphatically with the high compliments that have already been given, and I can't top them: wouldn't want or feel a need to.

However, I can second Lorencino's complaint. Not only are you a poet, but one of the highest order. The fact that your poems are rich in imagery is almost incidental, considering the impressive way that you use words.