Evening Porch
Evening Porch
I went out to an evening porch
because a bur bit at my heart.
I could not tell if it was you
or your loss that stung so smart.
The crickets rubbed a murmur synched
to a wholeness I could barely hear;
my forehead had to listen hard
harder even than my ears.
The breeze that rose from somewhere North
felt a bit like fingertips;
you too were raised in a place of cold
but rarely touched my face, my lips.
And yet this sweep of ending day
whose deep’s deep blue except where green
speaks to me of you, of you,
and means what I would have it mean:
that you loved me and I loved back,
that foreheads can be made to hear
(as now beneath the crickets’ arc
the stream’s rush cushions far and near)
so that on the planks I walk
beside a door that leads to light,
beside that blue that you’re blurred in,
I find a seat that bears with night
and try to write there till it’s dark,
write there even in the dark,
letters that feel their way along
this burdened page, unburred heart.
********************************
Here’s a poem for my own prompt – Going, Going, Gone, on Real Toads.
Painting is mine, though not sure it goes with the poem! All rights reserved.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, Karin Gustafson, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing, poetry
You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.
ManicDDaily 
August 30, 2018 at 7:43 pm
The last stanza is most excellent.
August 30, 2018 at 8:32 pm
Thanks so much.
August 31, 2018 at 12:56 am
The thoughts of a loved ones never leave us and may be we to sometimes go with them through our dreams.
August 31, 2018 at 12:04 pm
This is so beautifully written. I see and hear it all, and resonate with the pain of missing the loved one. Sigh. Just beautiful, Karin. I love the rhyme and rhythm of this poem so much.
August 31, 2018 at 1:29 pm
Thanks so much, Sherry. I was going to read it on a tape, but didn’t really have time. Thanks again for your ever kind support. k.
August 31, 2018 at 3:52 pm
Presence brims so bittersweetly from all those directions absence upwells …This is simple and straightforward, gorgeous in detail and sound. It’s intimately forlorn, like a heart speaking to itself. I don’t know if you’re writing about your mother here — I seem to recall that loss has weighted heavily — but it makes me wonder where the poems about my father are, locked inside his death a few months ago and not (yet) coming out. A change of weather is needed, perhaps … I wrote on the theme though I did not link to the challenges. So good to read you again.
September 1, 2018 at 4:04 am
This is just absolutely wonderful! Karin, I can’t say how much your writing has always affected me – I feel its sincerity to the core. I hope you never give up writing poetry entirely because you are sorely missed by me when you are gone.
September 1, 2018 at 4:38 am
Thanks so much for your encouragement, Kerry. I have felt less and less like a writer lately–so your words are well-timed. I am really going to try to change my life a bit as am missing this core piece! Thanks for keeping me in the group!
September 1, 2018 at 10:48 am
This is so perfect… love how you left without leaving… you were very much there, one step away in the garden, yet you travel into the memories, and maybe also into an alternative future… Thank you for a wonderful prompt.
September 1, 2018 at 11:14 am
That last line- Oh! So wonderful.
September 2, 2018 at 3:00 am
I love this porm. Have just Followed you. Will read some more
September 2, 2018 at 3:01 am
Sorry, that should have said poem. I am blind and sometimes make typos! Apologies