a space in my apartment
Thu, 19/03/2009 - 13:37 — Belinda Johnston
There are no crumbs, no bed to trace
Where your body once rested
There is a space in my apartment
No one to pour me tea, two lumps
Half a cup
Bathroom turned back to normal
No water to mop up
My yoga mat sits in the corner: Lonely, like a sheep on
Barren land
My walls weep: Missing your dangly feet and outstretched hands
My sides no longer ache, from sillies and laughter
Your recitals’ of dreams and of happy ever after
There is a space in my apartment.
Your voice singing the blues: Lingers, like the towel you left draped
Over the living room door -
Floor free of clutter, and you, uttering those words:
You’re snoring again…
There is a space in my apartment.
Comments
A space in my apartment
Wonderful! I agree with the sheep on barren land. It displays the lonliness and emptiness though but not the 'feel' of your piece.
Your voice singing the blues: Lingers, like the towel you left draped
Over the living room door - ( I love this stanza!) seems that his voice is a wonderful memory for you but that its annoying now, like a dirty towel would be...
Beautiful work Belinda! take care
Thank you so much for your
Thank you so much for your comments. It was a pleasant surprise to receive some more comments on this piece, as I posted it so long ago now :).
I will get around to revising this poem, as you know it's takes time, and sometimes the poem evolves and ends up in some other place, quite different to how you first imagined it.
I agree with the 'sheep on barren land' it's to abstract for the piece, needs something more concrete and fitting with the rest of the poem i feel.
Thank you so much again, Belinda x
enjoyed
I enjoyed reading this, the melancholy of it. If some images replaced as Martin suggests, it might create more room for other lines you might imagine and well, start giving me shivers, I know that melancholy mood so well! -Pete
Couple of points
Do you mean no bed, as in the bed is no longer there? Assume you mean that the trace of the body no longer there.
Like the use of ‘There is a space…’ as a refrain.
'like a sheep on barren land' doesn’t work for me, neither does 'my walls weep'
irony of stanza: 'my sides no longer…' works well
Really like ‘You’re snoring again…’ Not been there, honest.
Overall: nice poem. Presence through absence not always easy to do, but handled well. As is the quiet emptiness.
Thank you
Hi Martin,
Thank you for your constructive comments. I've been thinking about the 'the sheep on barren land' as I don't think it's fitting with the rest of the poem, I take note of this. The bed was a futon, that's now been stored away, will have a rethink about this, as it's confusing.
Thank you again for taking the time to read and comment. Belinda