I clutch that wooden peacock
a remnant of my childhood
memory of it all surfaces
misted thoughts shadow
the reflected green walls
I stop, filter it all out
coolly watch the wind dancing.
that peacock moves in my palm
my psych dusts itself
cleansing all the remembrances
I make way for new ones
but that wooden peacock stays
"only a small token, but I love its faded colours"
Think many of us have some item whose touch and memory keeps us rational in times of change, pain and/or crisis. Love that last line.
ReplyDeleteHow many times I have held the object in my hand wavering between the trash and a prominent place on the mantel. sigh.
ReplyDeleteWell said!! I love your poetry.
b
"cleansing all rememberances"... and I am grateful you saved your words to share with us.
ReplyDeleteExcellent!
Those memories are so important to the present.
ReplyDeleteI tried to visualise your peacock and all its cryptic remembrances..it must be something endearing.
ReplyDeleteHi Gautami,
ReplyDeleteLovely. A life in the palm of your hand.
Love this one.
ReplyDeletefrom Therese B. at RWP -- I like how the poem moves from something mistily and dustily remembered (title) to something that moves in the palm (near center of poem)to someone who speaks out loud (last line of poem). This movement is from unreal past to real present.
ReplyDeleteNicely handled. An object can be many things and hold many meanings. I like your attitude of going on.
ReplyDeleteWhat a delight. You have a lovely turn of phrase.
ReplyDeleteI like the iconic feel of the peacock; it's like a reliquary statue, a household god, something a child would secretly worship, and by doing so make sacred.
ReplyDeleteIt made me think that I am familiar with the feeling of memories contained by old objects in a hidden corner... "my psych dusts itself",love it...
ReplyDeleteThis feels honest, Gautami, and has a self-aware sense of humour about itself. Very good.
ReplyDeleteI like that you used a peacock. it says to me you had many beautiful colours in you childhood memories. It's nice to dust away the cobwebs and take another look. Thank you for writing this. I will enjoy another reading.
ReplyDeleteThis really captures the way an object can hold memory.
ReplyDeleteLove this. I think we all have little treasures that we keep, and you've expressed the feeling tautly.
ReplyDeleteThere are those objects and moments that will always keep us rooted to the past... the contradiction of a person who is always changed by experience yet maintains a constant "identity". This is very powerful in its simplicity.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you portray sorting memories, making room for new while hanging on to what is important, or grounding.
ReplyDeleteJust stopped by to congratulate you on your POTD mention at authorblog. Well deserved!
ReplyDeletewell done as usual...ya i really like "cleansing all rememberances" also
ReplyDeleteI came over from David's authorblog. Congrats on the Post of the Day Award!
ReplyDeletebeautiful writing, makes me think of a picture embroidered by my grandmother that's been in my home so long, i've stopped seeing it. i'm going to go home, look at it and maybe pull it out of the drawer and hang it...
ReplyDeletecongrats on post of the day by authorblog!
much love
that wooden peacock conjured images of an old weathervane, paint chipped and form beaten, much like the individual carrying it. nice vivid language throughout. -lawrence
ReplyDelete'my psch dusts itself'- lovely... and so profound...
ReplyDeletemost of my items that take me back are old books...running fingers across their texture...the smell of their story on dusty pages...beautiful piece. congrats on the POTD mention.
ReplyDelete"but that wooden peacock stays..." Something important and resonant about that image, Guatami!
ReplyDeleteloved this one.Brought many personal images to mind. Thanks.
ReplyDelete