Girl With a Blue Vase
Now, on looking back,
I remember
clearly, how she used
to carry water
from the courtyard,
to her mother’s house
and then back again ..
More than two miles
each way
and every day, in that
tall, salt glazed,
lapis blue, earthenware
pitcher of hers ..
The same one that she
carried home
from the market during
the infamous drought
of twenty sixteen ..
I also recall, how she
carried it high,
and so finely balanced
upon the pale shelf,
of her naked left shoulder ..
And of how
the sunlight then caught
and played
directly upon the silver
buckles of her
worn leather sandals ..
Indeed those
she would only ever wear
when weaving
her way home through
the scorching
red sand and occasional
contrasting
patches, of respite cool,
crisp, fallen leaves ..
She might find on her
way back again ..
Yes those, which were
once maybe,
old windblown robins
nests stolen ..
From off the branches
of long deceased trees ..
But of course,
they felt, so much kinder
to the feet
of lone travellers than that
way back then ..
Yet were still perfectly
mismatched
and as much out of place
as the girl
with her old blue vase
did sometimes seem ..
And though sad,
I confess, I now see her
far less and then only her
silhouette ..
But hear this, I know
and only too well ..
There is an old blue vase
and a young girl,
still out there somewhere
just waiting to be found ..
-
Author:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: April 26th, 2023 09:50
- Comment from author about the poem: am feeling a bit lag jetted so may need to tweak this one sometime ..
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet, Bobby O, L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments9
A very clear and vivid memory you have N. Welcome back from your little getaway..
Bless both you and your nib kind sir .. so very muchly appreciated 🙂
Good write N. I was carrying a blue vase, but I tripped over Fido and it smashed!
How much of my waffle can ya believe? lol
Good write N. I was carrying a blue vase, but I tripped over Fido and it smashed!
How much of my waffle can ya believe? lol
I got ya first time .. no need to repeat yourself .. I'm not quite totally blind just yet Mr. O 🐭🐧
Seems more like a memory of the girl and not the vase, but that may be intentional. Somehow, I think, there is a connection between unavailability of water and the same of the girl. Someone from a memory now fading to "silhouette."
Not long forgotten nor fresh and alive either. A poem that is recollection mixed with desire? Or a long-ago memory slowly being lost to time? Thoroughly enjoyable. - Phil A
I still think you can see write through me Phil .. please see my response to Doggerel Dave for further enlightenment .. and thank you kindly too sir 🙂
A vivid mental picture is evoked by your words, Neville. Rich in detail, the background would imply Africa – correct?
Now curious, I gave Prof Google a spin. Keywords ‘drought 2016’ yielded many claims, with Africa well down the list.
Reentry ‘drought 2016 africa’… apparently large swathes of Africa have and are suffering long term drought, although 2016 was particularly severe…
Great painting there. Word strokes more than do the job.
A mighty big thank you Dave .. yes you are correct, it was Africa and her name was Praya .. we shared just over six months together .. she was the very blond (aren't they always) daughter of Dutch missionaries .. Her parents were both dead and she used to help out at the psychiatric hospital I volunteered at called Tanka Tanka .. feel free to Google .. Cheers again, Neville 🐧
Wonderful words Neville and so very true in too many instances on our world.
Andy
thank you kindly Dave .. just more memories laid down for posterity ..
'bit tired still Nev? - want to thank Andy? Delete this anytime.
1 more comment
Sunlight caught, played, the silver buckles, descriptive style stays within the story never gratuitous and I’m certain the amount of punctuating phrase that describe is certain to be guilty in most hands of extra and muddied nut never in how you write. I hope to be that accomplished one day. Many props.
You are, my fine new literary friend far too kind sir .. Thank you so very much for your visit here today and the encouraging notes you so generously left behind .. Neville
Still, I request you review a specific piece if possible. It speaks about how I think Jazz and hip hop are the same. Titled
Thelonius Reborn As the Dee Oh Double G.
Many thanks in advance ????
2 more comments
who needs, immersion software
when poetry can offer
such vivid tangibility, in but a few
choice lines:
'the scorching
red sand and occasional
contrasting
patches, of respite cool,
crisp, fallen leaves ..
She might find on her
way back again ..'
the Poet supreme, is back
with a resounding, bang
Brilliant!
(I read and learn, Hyung)
thank you
I am not sure whether its a flush, or a blush, or some kind of head rush that envelopes me head brother Mek when I notice you have paid a visit .. Whatever the case, I shall let my daughter continue to think I have some kind of allergy .. Oh' yes, tis good to be back, thank you n truly 🙂
lol
Lovely writing .. this story is told in such a nice way .. flows with ease . And great way to end the poem ..
Liked the read ..
I am truly honoured that you dug this one up my friend .. thank you so much Violet ..
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