Sunday, December 02, 2012

Borrowed Thoughts

Often on a Sunday morning, a friend and I get together to write. She is always ready with a prompt and though we don't designate either poetry or prose, she usually writes the latter and I the former. This morning one of the prompts was the opening line from Sara Teasdale's poem, Places— "Places I love come back to me like music..."

Here's my own construction:

There is music in nature—
the sigh of needled boughs,
the staccato of pouring rain,
the bellow of an icy wind,
the bell ring of water over stones­,

arias sung by summer birds
and dirges played by storms,

but no music is as sweet
as the symphonies of places loved—
the violins of longing,
the persistent drumbeat of the heart
underlying every blade of grass,
gracing every memory
of wall and walk.


Brian Miller said... true...i love the use of music in this...and there are those places i could come back to and never grow old of them..

patteran said...

Amen to that, Pauine!

Tabor said...

Nice juxtaposition and good rendtion of that exercise on your part!

Laura said...

so beautiful... so glad I stopped by, such an elegant poem.

Hilary said...

Perfect.. beautiful and so true.

Kerry said...

I love Sara Teasdale, and you have more than done her justice. Great prompt, great poem. Thanks!

Friko said...

Could I borrow your friend? Or better yet, both of you?

Getting together to write is the most magical thing I can think of. You must be close to be able to do that. I shall suggest to my (not very close) writing group that we use the occasional prompt.

Being a permanently lonely person looking to find her roots, your poem speaks directly to my heart.

Pauline said...

Brian - there's music everywhere, yes?

Thanks, Dick

Tabor - sometimes prompts work, sometimes they don't

Laura, thanks!

Hilary - the place I miss most is the one in the photo. I grew up there.

Thanks, Kerry.

Friko - we could do it on Skype and you could join us!

Barbara Shallue said...

Music always triggers memories in me. I love this!

Karl Bartzsch said...

I recognized the homestead immediately! Lots of memories.

Pauline said...

Karl - all my memories of home are good ones. I still miss the old homestead! Thanks for visiting and commenting...

barbara - in this case, memories trigger music!

Anne said...

The picture and the lovely poem immediately made me think about the home I grew up in, now lived in by strangers. That brings with it a little sadness, but the memories are happy ones.

Pauline said...

Anne - my happy memories of my childhood home (in the photo) are tinged with a longing, too, for not only the vanished days but for the house itself which I still long to inhabit.