Ghost Poem
I went looking for my poetic voice in my childhood home
and found it in the floral wallpaper of my bedroom
I found it on the stairs to the second floor
where I had a past life memory of living in a castle
My dad is still standing on the stairs between floors
He’s got a book in his left hand and looks confused
Sometimes he steps down to sit in his easy chair
He looks for the TV remote that hasn’t been invented yet
I looked for my voice in the back of my sister’s closet
and found it among the dresses I wished were mine
among the mismatched winter mittens in the downstairs closet
and on every knick knack I had to dust for my mother
I even found it on the cold linoleum floors
and under the fake brick living room paneling
It lives still in the rocks of the seascape picture
that hangs in a different house now
I’d like to stay on the phone with my boyfriend
while my brother Jim poses in his army uniform
but I’m distracted by the turntable
playing something from the Beatles
and I have a new poem to work on now
_________Colleen Redman / Imaginary Garden with Real Toads / dVerse Poets Pub
November 24th, 2015 10:33 am
It’s like watching the past on black and white film…great write.
November 24th, 2015 10:47 am
This is an amazing retrospective piece.. the memories so clearly wrought that the reader wonders how we ever differentiate between past and present.
November 24th, 2015 10:50 am
The flowers on the wallpaper were purple. Here is the house that was taken by the town through eminent domain to build a sewage plant: http://looseleafnotes.com/2007/04/the-greenhouse/
November 24th, 2015 12:09 pm
What a wonderful walk down memory lane.. Love the details and the ghosts you bring to life. The little detail with the remote control that shouldn’t be there is just such a detail that bring a small touch of surrealism… wonderful
November 24th, 2015 4:48 pm
My favorite is your dad standing between floors with a book in his hand. well, i liked the part about wanting your sister’s clothes too. Really enjoyed the whole thing and the pulling away from the poem you did.
November 24th, 2015 10:29 pm
Wallpaper, it isn’t always ghosts behind there.
November 25th, 2015 1:06 am
There are places I remember
In my life
Though some have changed…
November 25th, 2015 8:04 am
Oh, I love this… love the idea as well as its execution. That turntable! Those closets and where IS that (not yet invented) remote?! Just wonderful. Thank you.
November 25th, 2015 9:16 am
This is a visit to the past written so well. What a journey you take us on!
November 25th, 2015 5:30 pm
I love the glimpse into your poetic voice. Beautiful
November 25th, 2015 8:43 pm
[…] 9. I went looking for my poetic voice in my childhood home / and found it in the floral wallpaper of my bedroom / I found it on the stairs to the second floor / where I had a past life memory of living in castle / My dad is still standing on the stairs between floors / He’s got a book in his left hand and looks confused / Sometimes he steps down to sit in his easy chair / He looks for the TV remote but it hasn’t been invented yet / Read the rest of Ghost Poem HERE. […]
November 26th, 2015 4:11 pm
Love a second visit to this great poem
November 26th, 2015 4:21 pm
The opening lines are my favorite 🙂 such a great write.
November 26th, 2015 6:12 pm
You have been very subtle in this evocation of powerful memories. A beautiful poem.
November 26th, 2015 7:07 pm
This is an amazing walk down the memory lane, I loved reading every word of it.
November 26th, 2015 7:08 pm
I like the look back at your growing up years ~ Thanks for the personal share ~
November 27th, 2015 7:02 am
Thank you for taking us along on this walk-through. I’m happy you’ve found your voice in so many places! I’m trying to brainstorm now, to think of all the places I found mine.
November 27th, 2015 8:23 am
What a blast from the past – sharp, distinct images, especially liked the detail of the mismatched mittens and dusting the knick-knacks.
November 27th, 2015 1:59 pm
I was right there looking with you … wonderful!
November 27th, 2015 7:52 pm
Momentos of Loved
ones live in
wait.. eyes
of Love
before shine
bright in stuff
of Love..
rumbles
of clouds
sing there
too.. dark..
oh past now
you create
stuff of late
so
early..:)
November 28th, 2015 3:21 am
Dreams and snatches of memories can surely provide the kind of ideas for the poet in you. Well done Colleen!
Hank