Friendly Ghosts *, Revision II Options

[Psyche]

REVISION II


I stroll through crowds,
awareness unexceptional today,
savouring aromas of ripe watermelons.
Perhaps I’ll take that yellow pumpkin
and a ½ kilo of kiwis?

Is that your face in the market?

Unpredictable, yet constant.
No confrontations.
Profile’s turned away now.
I’ll take the kiwis, Rosa,
then a watermelon and four beets will do.
No pumpkin today.

Did I glimpse your face in the market?

Blue blue eyes,
hairline slightly receding,
trim beard, whimsical air of comedy.
A good likeness, yes.
Right! 10 pesos it is...adiós Rosa,
I’ll hurry back now.
Must check in at 9 a.m.

Why do you hover in the crowds?

In appearance weightless,
you don't beset me;
a sporadic silhouette
amidst resolute shoppers.

A presence in improbable spots:
gestures in queues at the ticket office
(you loved theatre!),
the shape of a head, outlined in dimness.
One gets used to it.

Friendly features come and go:
my eyes devour them,
my heart is a crystal goblet
brimming over with fine reminiscences.

I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.

Sylvia Evelyn, Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia. 2015.








ORIGINAL

Whose is that face in the market?

I stroll through crowds,
awareness unexceptional today,
eyeing some watermelons.
Perhaps I’ll take that yellow pumpkin
and a ½ kilo of kiwis?

It’s a familiar face. Seen it around.
Profile’s turned away now.
- I’ll take the kiwis, Rosa,
not the pumpkin today,
and I think four beets will do.

Whose is that face in the market?

Blue blue eyes,
hairline slightly receding,
trim beard, whimsical air of comedy.
A good likeness, yes.
- Right! 5 pesos it is...adiós Rosa,
I’ll hurry back now.
Must check in at 9 a.m.

And whose is that face in the market?

Standing your ground,
in appearance weightless,
a sporadic silhouette
amidst resolute shoppers.
I get visits in improbable spots:
a gesture in queues at the ticket office
(you loved theatre!),
the shape of a head, outlined in dimness.
One gets used to it.

Friendly ghosts come and go:
my eyes devour them,
my heart is a crystal goblet
brimming over with fine reminiscences.

I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.

Sylvia Evelyn, Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia. 2015.

[Eisa]

Hi Syl,

It's so good to see a new one from you. I love it!

The title really drew me in (don't we all like a hint of the supernatural!)

On first read I see very little to nit.

Friendly Ghosts

Whose is that face in the market?

I stroll through crowds,
awareness unexceptional today,
eyeing some watermelons.
Perhaps I’ll take that yellow pumpkin
and a ½ kilo of kiwis?

It’s a familiar face. Seen it around.
Profile’s turned away now.
- I’ll take the kiwis, Rosa,
not the pumpkin today,
and I think four beets will do.

I personally think the dash is unnecessary as you've italicised the taling

Whose is that face in the market?

Blue blue eyes,
hairline slightly receding,
trim beard, whimsical air of comedy.
A good likeness, yes.
- Right! 5 pesos it is...adiós Rosa,
I’ll hurry back now.
Must check in at 9 a.m.

Same comment about dash as above

I'm loving this!

And whose is that face in the market?

Standing your ground,
in appearance weightless,
a sporadic silhouette
amidst resolute shoppers.
I get visits in improbable spots:
a gesture in queues at the ticket office
(you loved theatre!),
the shape of a head, outlined in dimness.
One gets used to it.

Friendly ghosts come and go:
my eyes devour them,
my heart is a crystal goblet
brimming over with fine reminiscences.


Love this stanza especially. I have to ask is this about Carlos? I have written 2 poems about seeing my mother in a crowd, which made ne think of that.
I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.

I'm so pleased to see you writing again, Syl and this is a stunner!
I'll be back for another look later

Hugs
Eira

Sylvia Evelyn, Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia. 2015.

[Psyche]

Hi Eira,

Thanks for the thumbs up! I've had little inspiration this year. A stunner...wow!

I'll answer here because I've a problem with the Edit button, as you know.

In my own case, I don't think it's supernatural. Ever since my dearest sons, and now my husband Carlos, died, I've frequently seen shapes, gestures, colours and even objects that bring my lost ones to mind. This poem could be for any of them.

Lately, when I'm at the big supermarket. I actually stretch out my hand to pick yogurts, cookies, even socks or shirts for Carlos. I always stop myself in time, but I still can't help looking at the stuff I used to buy for him. Stupid objects can bring tears to my eyes. I loved spoiling him.

His passing was this year, so my thoughts and dreams mostly circle around him.

But it so happens that I was working on this poem some years back...never satisfied

Tx for the advice, I think I'll remove the dashes.

We'll probably always "see" our loved ones in the crowds. I believe it's to do with the senses, somewhere in our brain. It doesn't happen to my daughter. On the other hand, when she flies her beautiful kites, she says she connects with some higher spheres.

All for now, hugs, Syl***

Hi Syl,

It's so good to see a new one from you. I love it!

The title really drew me in (don't we all like a hint of the supernatural!)

On first read I see very little to nit.

Friendly Ghosts

Whose is that face in the market?

I stroll through crowds,
awareness unexceptional today,
eyeing some watermelons.
Perhaps I’ll take that yellow pumpkin
and a ½ kilo of kiwis?

It’s a familiar face. Seen it around.
Profile’s turned away now.
- I’ll take the kiwis, Rosa,
not the pumpkin today,
and I think four beets will do.

I personally think the dash is unnecessary as you've italicised the taling

Whose is that face in the market?

Blue blue eyes,
hairline slightly receding,
trim beard, whimsical air of comedy.
A good likeness, yes.
- Right! 5 pesos it is...adiós Rosa,
I’ll hurry back now.
Must check in at 9 a.m.

Same comment about dash as above

I'm loving this!

And whose is that face in the market?

Standing your ground,
in appearance weightless,
a sporadic silhouette
amidst resolute shoppers.
I get visits in improbable spots:
a gesture in queues at the ticket office
(you loved theatre!),
the shape of a head, outlined in dimness.
One gets used to it.

Friendly ghosts come and go:
my eyes devour them,
my heart is a crystal goblet
brimming over with fine reminiscences.


Love this stanza especially. I have to ask is this about Carlos? I have written 2 poems about seeing my mother in a crowd, which made ne think of that.

I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.

I'm so pleased to see you writing again, Syl and this is a stunner!
I'll be back for another look later

Hugs
Eira

Sylvia Evelyn, Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia. 2015.