Edit 1 (Achebe)

There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil
waiting to drag us kicking
into the opening roots of a bloody tree.

But sometimes you'll hear your name being called
when you play music too loud and turn it down
to listen for that voice once again.

You'll be asked
to spare some change
by a man outside the supermarket, who smells
of sweet sherry and Sunday roast.

There will always be a shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past
and think for a moment it's her.

This is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, how they keep a foot
in our world, the way we hold on.



Original
This is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, how they keep a foot
in our world, the way we hold on.

You'll be asked to spare some change
by a man in the supermarket,
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast.

As you kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils you'll remember that
she showed you how to do it.

You can't avoid that shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment it's her.

There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us kicking
into the opening roots of a bloody tree.

But sometimes you'll hear your name being called
when you play music too loud and turn it down
to listen for that voice once again.

(06-24-2017, 07:54 PM)Keith Wrote:  This is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, how they keep a foot
in our world, the way we hold on.

You'll be asked to spare some change
by a man in the supermarket,
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast.

As you kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils you'll remember that
she showed you how to do it.

You can't avoid that shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment it's her.

There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us kicking
into the opening roots of a bloody tree.

But sometimes you'll hear your name being called
when you play music too loud and turn it down
to listen for that voice once again.

the ghost of the past seems bittersweetly missed and welcome to haunt here. I like the poem, especially the last stanza.

Gorgeous. This is why I love you. The last two stanzas are especially wonderful.

Ah, the sweet buzz of a good read.

(06-24-2017, 07:54 PM)Keith Wrote:  This is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, how they keep a foot
in our world, the way we hold on.

You'll be asked to spare some change 
by a man in the supermarket,
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast. ..... although this is a lovely image, it's unwieldy. Maybe breaking it up as 'You'll be asked / to spare some change' provides the necessary pause

As you kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils you'll remember that ...again, daffodils / you'll remember might be smoother
she showed you how to do it. 

You can't avoid that shock of grey hair ....could do with a little change here from three successive 'You's. 
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment it's her.

There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us kicking ...and again, or shadow clad evil / waiting
into the opening roots of a bloody tree. .... great image.

But sometimes you'll hear your name being called  ..
when you play music too loud and turn it down
to listen for that voice once again. ... splendid

 

One for the ages. A bit wordy, so perhaps you should give it some thought.

A very pleasant read. At first thought i couldn't say that it invokes the thought of the afterlive, but rather nostalgia, most likely to time spent with a deceased person - but even on that pretext i felt at first that it didn't quite fit. 

After a couple more reads, i realized that the first sentence of the first stanza perfectly describes the title (Making me say "Ohh!" out loud)
The imagery you use is vivid (who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast), which is more than instrumental to succesfully convey a feeling of nostalgia.
Nothing more i can add, really.

Thanks for sharing, Keith!

(06-24-2017, 10:40 PM)vagabond Wrote:  the ghost of the past seems bittersweetly missed and welcome to haunt here. I like the poem, especially the last stanza.

Thank you Vagabond you have it summed up well. Best Keith

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(06-25-2017, 05:35 AM)Lizzie Wrote:  Gorgeous. This is why I love you. The last two stanzas are especially wonderful.

Ah, the sweet buzz of a good read.

Hey Lizzie
Thank you for the encouragment, very pleased you enjoyed the read. Best Keith

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(06-25-2017, 11:15 PM)The Four-Eyed Cat Wrote:  A very pleasant read. At first thought i couldn't say that it invokes the thought of the afterlive, but rather nostalgia, most likely to time spent with a deceased person - but even on that pretext i felt at first that it didn't quite fit. 

After a couple more reads, i realized that the first sentence of the first stanza perfectly describes the title (Making me say "Ohh!" out loud)
The imagery you use is vivid (who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast), which is more than instrumental to succesfully convey a feeling of nostalgia.
Nothing more i can add, really.

Thanks for sharing, Keith!

Glad you got it Cat, thanks for taking time with this one, much appreciated, Keith

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(06-25-2017, 03:25 PM)Achebe Wrote:  

(06-24-2017, 07:54 PM)Keith Wrote:  This is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, how they keep a foot
in our world, the way we hold on.

You'll be asked to spare some change 
by a man in the supermarket,
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast. ..... although this is a lovely image, it's unwieldy. Maybe breaking it up as 'You'll be asked / to spare some change' provides the necessary pause

As you kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils you'll remember that ...again, daffodils / you'll remember might be smoother
she showed you how to do it. 

You can't avoid that shock of grey hair ....could do with a little change here from three successive 'You's. 
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment it's her.

There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us kicking ...and again, or shadow clad evil / waiting
into the opening roots of a bloody tree. .... great image.

But sometimes you'll hear your name being called  ..
when you play music too loud and turn it down
to listen for that voice once again. ... splendid

 

One for the ages. A bit wordy, so perhaps you should give it some thought.

Thanks for the help with this one Achebe you raise some good points I will look at, I already cut a stanza from this to try and improve brevity so we are on the same page. Best Keith

beautiful
so many things about it
I learned, too.
the title is perfect
lovely poem

janine

Love this part

There will always be a shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past
and think for a moment it's her.

@nibbed
Many thanks janine very pleased you enjoyed the poem

@mkhalif
Very true, they never really go away.