Sunday, June 10, 2012

Ephemera




It would be foolish to stash it,
unlocked, under a rug or mattress.

I take it out often, inhale the fragrance,
alphabetize it, 
count and double-check it,
like foreign currency.

When my time comes,
I'll listen to Shostakovich,
and bury it beneath the tree
I long to be pressed against and kissed. 

Seeds of passion will sprout roots,

and bloom, uninhibited.


tk/June 2012


R.A.D. with Dmitri looking on...




*Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte


62 comments:

  1. Love "count and double-check it,
    like foreign currency"

    ReplyDelete
  2. Tess, that's a beautiful poem! Really.. Loved the way you wrote it. Made me miss a loved one too..

    Old pages invite prying eyes.

    ReplyDelete
  3. this really struck a cord with me..it is beautiful...and made me a little sad for things lost..or locked away...have a lovely sunday..xx

    ReplyDelete
  4. A truly beautiful poem, clear, passionate and somehow tragic.

    ReplyDelete
  5. A lovely poem, Tess. I had the opportunity to work with an archive that included love letters from W. Faulkner. Pretty amazing to unfold and touch these things. k.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I have just such a tree. Lovely.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh, so beautiful, Tess. I especially like the last 6 lines.

    ReplyDelete
  8. interesting image to lock ephemera up. Never would have occurred to me. Love the idea of burying it and thinking of it sprouting roots and blooming. lovely. unfoturnately for some reason i cant play the videos. although last night i was able to access a netflix streaming video. it's a puzzle.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I enjoyed your work. Love the recitation.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I think (amd hope) that we have all got a box like that in our lives.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I am reminded of the letters my mother-in-law kept from her husband during the war...so sweet, so romantic:)

    ReplyDelete
  12. Lovely take...I specially like the second stanza ~ Some memories never leave us ~

    ReplyDelete
  13. The highest praise I can give: I wish I had written that!

    ReplyDelete
  14. Bittersweet, I feel the remembering, the passion and longing in your poem. I'm reminded of the letters I have stashed away ... loved ones will stumble upon them one day ...(shall I leave a treasure map behind?)

    ReplyDelete
  15. Beautiful poem and I love the still life too.

    ReplyDelete
  16. What Helen said, and Helen..... oh please DO leave a treasure map!! On my anniversary this year, I found such a box with three anniversary cards from Barry. Joy!! =D

    ReplyDelete
  17. This is so lovely- I discovered some letters between my parents- what treasures.

    ReplyDelete
  18. lots of nice lines here... oh no! all lines are beautiful...

    JJRod'z

    ReplyDelete
  19. That third stanza is full of mystery. Really nice work, Tess!

    ReplyDelete
  20. Oh to be pressed against a tree and kissed... Hmmm... Lovely :)

    ReplyDelete
  21. I love this, Tess...it is so very beautiful, not a wasted word and so much history and portent! Exquisite write, dear friend.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Love is eternal indeed- Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Beautifully written. Love the last stanza.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Gorgeous words painting a picture of passionate memories.

    ReplyDelete
  25. i like how you picked up that one of the notes seemed to be accounting

    painting details

    ReplyDelete
  26. Like a foreign currency... Objects with strange value and their exchange rates. Fantastic.

    ReplyDelete
  27. smiles....oh no map necessary...that kind of seed does not stay long in the ground before it blooms so we need only look for the beauty to find it...smiles.

    ReplyDelete
  28. lovely poem, Tess.. and i must say, these are beautiful lines.. --- "Seeds of passion will sprout roots,
    and bloom, uninhibited."

    ReplyDelete
  29. take it out and inhale the fragrance...very good.

    ReplyDelete
  30. Then I could take my woman to the tree
    beneath the angels' home, luminescent night
    breeze, scented by the stories we once told...
    If I were free, yes, if that free
    I would mount the wind and love the light
    and come apart in joy - if I were bold.

    ReplyDelete
  31. i like what you painted with your words Tess...lovely and thanks again for sharing

    ReplyDelete
  32. Love letters from the edge of the scented Ohian ocean.

    ReplyDelete
  33. Love so passionate will make the world go round. Two souls blend so well and so sensuously. You've expressed it perfectly, Tess! Great write!

    Hank

    ReplyDelete
  34. I do love the idea of seeds of passion sprouting roots - lovely line.

    ReplyDelete
  35. That wonderful energy of the writer will never be lost...seeds of passion will always sprout!

    ReplyDelete
  36. I read your Blog for the first time this morning. I am charmed in the deep meaning of the word. Thank you.
    Did you know that Authur Christopher Benson, early 20th cen. English author, would bury the many volumes of his diaries, and ocassionally dig them up, re-read them and rebury them? His whole family was filled with that sort of fun. Thank you for your Persephone-like poem. David

    ReplyDelete
  37. I have a box like that (in my mind) and a tree like that. Love the last line.

    Anna :o]

    ReplyDelete
  38. Seeds of passion, and so many other visions before our eyes ....lovely read!

    ReplyDelete
  39. Beautiful turn of phrases!! Fabulous!
    Hugs
    SueAnn

    ReplyDelete
  40. ...this is exquisite Tess, bravo...

    ReplyDelete
  41. I love the poem ... for it's great passion.

    ReplyDelete
  42. Seeds of passion will sprout roots,
    and bloom, uninhibited.


    The perfect close, Tess!!! Love freed and growing wild!! Beautiful!

    ReplyDelete
  43. Ah, yes, the fragrance of special things...you capture this so well. Beautiful reading too!

    ReplyDelete
  44. wonerfully written and gathered. i can see all clearly and take
    in the aroma of the day and that tree.

    ReplyDelete
  45. LOVE this, especially:
    "When my time comes,
    I'll listen to Shostakovich,
    and bury it beneath the tree
    I long to be pressed against and kissed."

    Love your take on the photo.

    de
    whimsygizmo.wordpress.com

    ReplyDelete
  46. I used to work at a savings and loan and always wondered what went on in those little safety deposit booths. Beautiful poetry, Tess.

    ReplyDelete
  47. When ever I re-read your little profile bio thingy, I am reminded of one of my favorite people, a librarian named June. When asked to speak in public she would carefully enunciate several of her favorite words. Words like perambulate, persnickety, scrumptious, thistle, giddy, nettle, nocturne...

    She loved words, and language. She passed away much too soon but I can still hear the eulogies of her friends reading their favorite words at her Memorial.

    ReplyDelete
  48. Poignant piece - delicate and lovely.

    ReplyDelete
  49. Such an apt title for this lovely poem read so beautifully.

    ReplyDelete
  50. Wholly magnificent - with no more than one sniff!

    ReplyDelete
  51. Incredibly expressive, powerful imagery, Willow!
    A Poetessa of the first order you are! xxx

    ReplyDelete
  52. Just point to the tree, R.A.D. ... *wink*

    ReplyDelete
  53. LOVE the reading, Tess. Well done!

    ReplyDelete
  54. This one pulled at my heart-strings. Love it.

    ReplyDelete
  55. What beautiful writing and a lovely poem...

    ReplyDelete
  56. This is enchanting Tess, the Shostakovich just the icing on an already romantic layer cake ...

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2012/06/love-letters-of-promises-and-regret.html

    ReplyDelete
  57. Many heartfelt thanks for all your kind and generous comments, dear readers ... and a special thank you to R.A.D. Stainforth for making this beautiful recording of my words ...

    ReplyDelete
  58. I love the imagery you convey. Lovely work!

    ReplyDelete
  59. Love the seeds you planted here...

    =)

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)