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Ritual

by Lottie 

Posted: 20 May 2004
Word Count: 79


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we meet at the Peartree; Saturdays' mourning.
bluebell clusters and pink blossom rain
lead the way.

she brings white lilies that pass by each week;
I ache for carnations
yet to flower.

Revelry in talk, she's accustom to overcome
this pause. lips turned up
hide her angst.

Seperated before I can raise her spirit. I pray for
confirmation they're mistaken.
love doesn't expire?

I am stone-chilled, with words engraved on a
muted tongue. longing for her
to join me.







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Comments by other Members



Account Closed at 23:51 on 20 May 2004  Report this post
What a way with words you have, Lottie.

This is a beautiful, colourful and moving poem. The image of the gravestone near the pear tree, and the way in which you convey everything, through the texture and rythm of your words, made this poem a pleasure to read.

Very haunting. I can't wait to read more!

Steven



Lottie at 00:19 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Woops, please note: "Longer" should have been "longing"



Nell at 06:53 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Hi Lottie, and welcome to WW. I love the image of ...pink blossom rain leading the way, and Saturdays' mourning, which says so much in just two words. This is a set ritual, and all seems clear until the mystery of the fourth stanza - I wonder if the word separated refers to the speaker (it seems to) or to her friend (sister?) I wonder too, who is/are the they that the speaker prays is/are mistaken about the death of love (presumably with the death of the body). I am stone-chilled, with words engraved... beautiful use of words, so descriptive, bringing to mind the chill beyond the merely physical, the chill one sometimes feels at the sight of tombstones, and again the word engraved reinforcing the tombstone image vividly. I do love the mystery of this, it gives the reader something on which to ponder, and makes for a haunting piece.

Best, Nell.

Mooncat at 10:49 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Hi Lottie,

I agree - a haunting piece. I love your choice of words -
'stone-chilled, with words engraved on a muted tongue'.

This also flows well, with a great sense of rhythm.

Best wishes,
Mooncat

Lottie at 16:10 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Steven - thank you for reading my work and for your feedback. It's always encouraging to get.

Nell - Thank you for reading my work and for your feedback. The speaker is a "he" who's passed over and "she" is his partner left behind. You have interpreted this piece exactly how I wanted it to come across. :-)

Mooncat - thank you for your feedback - very encouraging :-)

Lottie

roovacrag at 16:44 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Hi Lottie welcome to WW.
Very well written.
Each stanza flowed well and i loved the line..I ache for carnations.
Well done.
xx Alice

Lottie at 20:41 on 21 May 2004  Report this post
Hi Alice thank you for the welcome.
Thank you for your comments, much appreicated.

I wasn't sure about the whole piece, this was a sort of final draft - been working on this for two years.

Regards,
Lottie :-)

The Walrus at 17:56 on 23 May 2004  Report this post
Endorse the above comments, great piece, look forward to reading more. Btw, don't know if you know but you can correct your 'longer' to 'longing' by clicking 'Owner Edit' at the top.

The Walrus

Fearless at 20:21 on 23 May 2004  Report this post
Lottie

Subtle body language can send a chill up one's spine, wind them and make tectonic plates shift underfoot....even beyond life (death is just another state of Being).

Your lyric also reminds me that at the moment of leavetaking, the strangest things happen or become apparent - the appearance of a perfect blossom, or a chance encounter....

Nice lyric, write on,

Fearless

tinyclanger at 13:04 on 26 May 2004  Report this post
Hi Lottie, late to this one!

I do like the idea of thim watching her, and his longing. Makes me wonder about the nature of ther relationship when he was alive...did she always
slightly 'misunderstand' him:
"she brings brings white lilies that pass by each week;
I ache for carnations
yet to flower"

She seems almost lost in the ritual, the convention of mourning..is behaving how she thinks she 'ought' to, whilst he longs to be able to reach her and comfort her, and to break through her mask...

"confirmation they're mistaken.
love doesn't expire?"
Am intrigued as to whether this applies to him - can he sustain the feeling even though he is dead, or to her...is he doubting her constancy, thinking that she will soon forget him....?
In a way that ties it back to the beginning and the reference to lilies and carnations. Lillies being the showy, grand gesture, but die quickly, whilst he would prefer something less spectacular, but with longevity and potential...
Smashing piece, which leads one to specualate on death and the nature of love. Their relationship is fascinating to ponder!
x
tc


Lottie at 15:47 on 26 May 2004  Report this post
Hi TC

Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on "Ritual".

This was written for my nan in memory of her life partner. He passed away two years ago next month, and my nan still visits every Saturday morning. Loss is something so difficult to come to terms with. I just felt her pain. He was a kind, loving gentleman who would do anything for her and she still fights the anger that she feels from his passing. I haven't shown this to my nan as yet, I don't know how she would react to it. She's quite a hard woman when it come's to showing/ expressing emotion.

Thanks once again for the positive feedback :-)

Lottie

nickyflower at 16:48 on 17 July 2008  Report this post
Great imagery, Lottie. Terrific poem.

love doesn' t expire?

No question about it.
Here' s a poem of mine, if I may gatecrash with it.


SOUL LOVE

Soul Love never dies,
so box it up,
pink ribbon tied in your heart.
Broken or not,
hold love there.
Stack it high,
fill black holes,
span the sky with its shards.

Love is in the stars,
it' s in the spaces,
it' s wisps of wind
and heartfelt traces of longing.
Heart-warming and disarming,
love can move macho,
can mend broken, can turn bombers around,
the unspoken word: power on a thought.

On and on forever,
though worlds apart,
world without endů
a stipend worth having,
heaven sent pennies, gold in the round.
Feels molten in your veins,
no pain no gain,
love raining God' s overtures.

Soul Love never dies.





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