Past Dues

There are walls inside walls (here)

housing gardens strewn with plucked blossom

of dying faith, littered memories

rest like forgotten ever-mores,

Lilies dipping fingers in murky ponds of stagnate water

long past flowing, forward…

.. ..

Fathers never kissed by little smiles

clutter stone benches, experiences blowing

across fields of lost promises softly swaying

in water ripples. On sunlight,

whispers echo feather gentle fingers

and gentlemen stand in rows,

facing desert sands and azure skies

invoking hope upon the Hand of God

while the moon splays itself over disappointments

buried beneath ego’s primed with pride

… eggshells crumble.

.. ..

Silently, as dreamscapes roll along the street

so too the wheel turns

sending pilgrims to supplications before gardens of

Forget-me-nots.

(c) A  Hannan

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Forgotten Seasons

Something made me think of this poem today so I thought I would share.

I wrote this last year for a Poetry Challenge, based on my memories of this moment of my life and my analysis of ‘Yesterday’ by the fabulous W.S Merwin, affectionately written in this style of his… so simply worded, so very confusing!

I have been kind… if you look carefully, you will see I have given a clear clue.


Forgotten Seasons

Kaylee he said
Ali he said
Yes it’s me, Ali I said
I’ve never seen you before!

Kissing my cheek he proceeded
by giving me a gentle squeeze
He doesn’t understand he said
this didn’t comfort me
I felt an unnatural chill in the room
creeping up my bare legs

He’s just a little confused he said
he’s been gone a long time and…
He just thinks I’m stupid he said
where did you go?
he doesn’t I said defensively
he loves you

I was three
the sterile scent of the hospital
filled my senses, numbing me
I could still hear the rickety-rack
trees and paddocks whizzing by
as the train shuttled along it’s rails
I could still feel the dip my stomach took
as the airplane sped down the runway

I had peered out the window
sitting on my feet
feeling much smaller
than my three years
watching mountains like little lego blocks
wondering somewhat in awe of what awaited
He reached for my hand
it startled me
I shuffled out of reach

Don’t be scared he said
come close so I can see your pretty face
Go, it’s OK he said
I toe over toed a little closer
I could smell death
turning to him, dark velvet eyes
pleading to leave
he nudged me forward with his gaze

Cold worn hands grabbed my cheeks
a lifetime of regrets slipping over my skin
crying I ran out into the garden
and sat watching bumble bees
pollinate bouquets of colour
I didn’t go back

My father said, it wasn’t my fault
it was his fault
He died the next day

(c) 2010 A Hannan