Beautifully esoteric rendering by R.A.D. Stainforth ...
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is a summer nap.
The box fan in the window
does not drown the French horn
moaning down scales,
from the house next door.
Underbelly full,
I lie helpless
on a pale duvet;
like tiny willow leaves,
my eyes tremble
to stay open.
I have time on my hands;
small fleshy vessel, waiting.
tk, July 2012
image: Yesterday's Dreams by Jack Vettriano
I can hear that French horn lulling you to sleep. I love-
ReplyDeletelike tiny willow leaves,
my eyes tremble
to stay open
nice write miss tess... i am suppose to use waiting as title too... but realizing where my story is going i changed it...
ReplyDeletehave a great summer Maam!
JJRod'z
mmmm..i could just curl up now....lovely evocative work..x Kay
ReplyDeleteEach of my four children was born in the Fall .. summer pregnancies all. Your poem reminded me of those hot summer sleepy lazy days - spent waiting.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poetry .. Would love to hear you read it as well ....
Dear Tess: Indelible memories; "Underbelly full" you were but a babes in arms~!!! Yes those memories are filtering back now; thanks for the tweak~!!!
ReplyDeleteLovely summer memory ~ Thanks for the prompt ~
ReplyDeletegorgeous ...lazy summers waiting for little miracles x x x
ReplyDeleteI perceive two perspectives here: one is that of the grown woman reminiscing at the window, and the other is of the girl she was laying on the duvet looking up at her mother. Very good piece.
ReplyDeleteThanks Irish...I'm glad you picked up on my other perspective...
DeleteTess, I began my post writing to your words which evoked summer's air for me. I am pleased someone like Vettriano is in the world.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely, soothing, gentle read. Nap time for a child. The fight to stay awake when all our being wills us to want to sleep is futile, isn't it. Going through the scales on a French horn would have driven me nuts. LOL
ReplyDeleteevocative - a tenderness of first memories still fresh all those years later... I fell hard for that second stanza
ReplyDeleteI just adore that second stanza!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!
ReplyDelete(My first memory is of me and my brother waking from a nap, my mother standing by the window, reaching up with her arms, opening the curtains, and afternoon sunlight streaming in.)
Truly, truly lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteMy earliest memory is of my Dad picking me up from the wooden verandha when I was about four! It was a freezing winter's night. He asked me what the heck was I doing. I told him that he'd said to Mum at tea-time that Jack Frost would be coming to the garden tonight and I just wanted to see him.
.. precious memory.
DeletePhilip, what an adorable memory...
Deletelovely poem and reading both. "like tiny willow leaves my eyes tremble to stay open." ah.
ReplyDeleteThank you for 'Waiting' Tess. I love the child like attitude. So tender and terrific. =D
ReplyDeletebeautiful tess, you've made waiting ethereal and spiritual.
ReplyDeletenot sure if my previous comment surfaced.
ReplyDeletetess, this is beautiful, you have made 'waiting'
a spiritual process.
The summer nap setting implies a gentle a soft moment, but the final "fleshy vessel waiting" reminds me of a child bride waiting for what must be done. A fascinating poem!
ReplyDeleteThanks Gemma, I'm glad you appreciate the layers here...
DeleteI love the window fan, love the French horn, love the fluttery eyes trying to stay open, love everything except the words "fleshy vessel"... after all that nostalgic soft focus, it was like walking through a lovely garden and finding a cold slug.
DeleteFrench horn moaning down the scales, is the best - Thanks-
ReplyDeleteReally love and sweet it had a dream feel to it. Nice write,That I have enjoyed
ReplyDeleteoh yes those pregnant naps...absolutely stunned into sleep
ReplyDeleteA summer nap...irresistible piece!
ReplyDeleteafter the day i had...a nap would be nice....it was a simpler time back then...and naps were not a bad thing at all ...wish we still got them...
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely memory! Beautiful imagery here.
ReplyDeleteAny poem with the mention of a box fan becomes instantly gripping. There is no more relaxing sound.
ReplyDeleteLazing on the bed is a privilege. It comes when everything else are just as lazy and slow-moving. Time in our hands is a giveaway. Wonderful take Tess!
ReplyDeleteHank
i like where you went with this....and enjoyed your words...thanks for sharing Tess
ReplyDeleteWonderful!
ReplyDeleteTess,
ReplyDeleteCurious how an early simple memory comes to the mind repeatly while most stay buried in the trunk of forgetfulness forever.
There must be some meaning hidden there, oui?
rel
Rel, I'm fascinated by the concept, as well. Why this particular instance out of thousands?
DeleteNicely written ... loved it :-)
ReplyDeleteThe vessel has proved a good 'un !
ReplyDeleteYour own yesterday’s dreams reminding us of those early summer naps. A little older and it would be the sound of other children playing in the street whilst we had to rest. Lovely poem Tess.
ReplyDeleteSmall, fleshy vessel, waiting...wonderful, sums it up!
ReplyDeleteThose early memories come in flashes and blurps, but it's crazy how vivid they can be. Simpler times...
ReplyDeleteThis is every nap I ever took as a child...complete with errant noises that would sort of distill into my consciousness while I struggled unsuccessfully to stay awake.
ReplyDeleteWhat I love best:
like tiny willow leaves,
my eyes tremble
to stay open.
Wonderful memories here.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful!
ReplyDeleteLovely. Replete with memories. Few things moan like a french horn.
ReplyDeletemuch to read between those lines of memories ...
ReplyDeleteLove this! Such wonderful memories.
ReplyDeletePerfect Tess, as always. Any mention of Willows and I'm napbound.
ReplyDelete(Just finished Brian Selznick's amazing 'Wonderstruck'... a kid's book. In it, there's a used bookshop... one of several structures the plot revolves around... named Kincaid's. Couldn't help thinking of your adorations.)
Thank you Steven...a perfect name for a secondhand bookshop...
DeleteExquisite piece!
ReplyDeleteloved this....feeling sleepy this afternoon....
ReplyDeleteLovely poem of childhood, late childhood - I remember afternoons like that with window fan (no French horn!) Great touch. k.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! You brought me right back to my earliest memory as well!
ReplyDeleteIt definitely is interesting to look back at our first memory. This is a perfectly ordinary memory, so why this one sticks in your mind is a puzzle. But it is a beautifully written memory, and I can definitely hear the French horn!
ReplyDeleteReally, really good. Her body language speaks of a memory.
ReplyDeleteComparing drowsy eyes to tiny willow leaves trembling is genius. Sheer genius. Loved this poem, loved the reading too.
ReplyDelete"tiny willow leaves" : the title of your next volume of poems I hope.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done. My first memory was of my father holding me on the back step of the house
ReplyDeletewe were watching a plane skywriting
....and time does seem to go so slow for us when we are small doesn't it?....And then we grow up and it goes toooo fast! Love this Tess! :-)
ReplyDeleteTop Notch stuff! Say hi to RAD for me!
ReplyDeleteDearest Readers! Your kind and generous comments mean so very much! I thank you. My muse thanks you.
ReplyDelete"tiny willow leaves"--perfect!--as is everything about your compact, intense poem. I love it. Thank you.
ReplyDelete