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.

[Luce]

Dear Sylvia,

Lovely poem. Nicely set up. It flows beautifully and the imagery is spot on.
I felt as if I was walking through the market with you. I especially like the tone.
It was comforting - not scary. The subject has come to grips with seeing ghosts
and has learned to live with this gift.

Like Eisa, I will come back to give this a closer look but I just wanted you to know
how "cool" it is. Kudos!!!

Luce

[Psyche]

Hello Luce,
Thanks a lot for your comments. I'm glad I achieved what I was aiming for.
It was not intended to be scary, tho' the title doesn't "tell"... I wanted an everyday tone, not something solemn, as it would not apply to my family life. Well, dunno...I'll leave it at that.

In actual life it's not exactly comforting to see shades of bygone people and moments, still you're quite right that I've come to grips with this sort of gift, or sensibility. Don't know what to call it.
Fact is, I dropped work and studies when my son died, having just obtained my own degree (late bloomer). Went on a long trip with my hubby.
When I returned, I started writing poetry and other things. The diploma hangs on the wall, getting yellowish.

Do come back if you have time, and thanks for the kudos
Sylvia

Dear Sylvia,

Lovely poem. Nicely set up. It flows beautifully and the imagery is spot on.
I felt as if I was walking through the market with you. I especially like the tone.
It was comforting - not scary. The subject has come to grips with seeing ghosts
and has learned to live with this gift.

Like Eisa, I will come back to give this a closer look but I just wanted you to know
how "cool" it is. Kudos!!!

Luce