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.

[Critter]

Hi Sylvia

Very fine poem. You have obviously done a lot of work here and received lots of feedback. The only thing that sort of niggled me was the word "ghosts" appearing in the title and in the last two strophes. I am not sure but I would tend to make them a little more illusive than that (which you do well in the rest of the poem). I guess I would at least remove them (the words) from the poem if they are in the title… we know "they" are there.