Friday, November 10, 2006

Still ~~ anna hood

Rain on the tin roof
makes him remember
as do the shivering poplars
that line the lane.
Their long sepia shadows
twine his legs
as he sits evenings
under their branches.
The one-eared grizzled tom
she'd found starving
in the barn keeps him company.

She'd painted them, the poplars.
At dusk their outstretched wrists
hold the sky
and pale birds, their gleaming breasts
swollen with song that wake him
when daylight is still
a foreign country.
The painting, now above
the fireplace, the ghosty smell
of turpentine turns his blood
to tar.

Her voice
in the sea sound of a shell
the sadness of some horn
wailing a blues song
down on the delta
in their daughter's laugh
sets his heart careening
into the wind that wrestles the clouds
she painted.

He was full of her
like a religion.
Like a beautiful song of faith.
He wanted to enfold her
forever in his arms
his wings
but one summer morning
the air shifted her last breath
into a thousand molecules
haloes of golden light.

The cat paces
waits for her return
still in her thrall.


Blogger Roberta said...

What a treasure to come home too after a long week at work.

Oh Anna, you sometimes break my heart with your poetry.

This time, completely.

4:41 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

How beautiful, Anna, and yet so sad at the poem's end.
You have a vivid talent that is mirrored into your art like the way sleep wears a dream.
And for its quilt are strong images of nature.
Again, it reminds me of a song with its dark mood of love and you remember Bobby Goldsboro?He sang a popular hit, Honey - in 1968 that took him to the top of the charts.
If I hear that song, it always brings a tear.
Here you talk of seashells and shivering poplars and being full of religion.
Anna, you wear poetry around you like a sparkly magic wand.

9:11 PM  
Blogger Bernita said...

Immortality that one should miss us thus.

3:30 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Roberta, don't we all long for someone to love us this way.
I think my dogs do (g)

And Susan, Of course I remember Bobby Goldsboro and Honey - me too always a tear. What do you think happened with her? suicide?

Bernita, we should all have this immortality

6:07 AM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

Hi Anna,
When I was little, I always thought that Honey died (when he sang that the angels came to take her away on a day that he wasn't at home) because she fell ill.
But in later year, I did wonder that he wasn't hinting of suicide.

Your poem shot that song up into my memory simply because it commanded a similiar mood that was both tragic and ethereal at the same time.


7:25 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Hey Susan,

I came home unexpectedly
And caught her cryin' needlessly
In the middle of the day
And it was in the early Spring
When flowers bloom and robins sing
She went away--

this spells suicide to me
but maybe not - maybe she discovered the big wart on her leg had turned green and gangrenous

and thank you so much -- (groan)
now I shall be singing that song until something new comes along and chases it away

9:54 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You have a wonderful way with words. I'm glad I stumbled upon your blog. Keep at it! =)

4:45 PM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

Anna that makes me want to cry. Too beautiful for words. Thank you.

1:33 AM  

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