Synesthesia
It smells, distinctly, like the winter of ’94.
Do you remember, when I beat you at Monopoly
and you cried? She held you close
and whispered into the curly hair you hated so much.
The fire was crackling, hissing a bit
although not so much as to scare you – well,
it sounds like that, oddly enough. It sounds like home,
like the kitchen arguments and the fifth step
that creaked even when nobody stepped on it.
It feels different to any of that, though.
It feels like the sheep in the field where we used to sunbathe
and share crumpled packets of cigarettes. You pushed
me into the stream there once, but I know you remember that.
It feels like those sheep and that grass and the gap
in the fence, worn from years of our hands.
It looks worn like that fence, too. Like faces weathered
by Scottish storms and coffee stained mugs. It looks
for all the world like that bonfire, or rather the embers of
it.
Do you remember? Maybe it was the year of the Millenium:
That's just a snippet of the stuff I write - all feedback is more than welcomed but I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading it.
That is an absolutely beatifully written poem, I really really enjoyed it. I always like poetry with unconventional structures (rhyming couplets kind of kill my soul) and I love how you controlled the pace - whether you intended to or not!!
ReplyDeleteI look forward to reading more stuff like this, keep it coming, girly! :-)
Teri-May xx
www.acupoft.co.uk
This is soooo good! Love your style of writing! I miss my uni creative writing classes so much. Always tempted to post creative stuff on my blog but I'm too scared!
ReplyDeleteYou should defo post more poems, I loved reading this one!
Laura xx
www.aviewfromthebalcony.com