Resurrection

Abstract-Art-Painting-Paul-Bennett-Resurrection

The sound of his voice made me shudder.

His hand, clasping at mine,

Stained by the imprint of our step for moments only:

A washed up outline of colours running into each other,

Denying the form consistency.

Breathing in the brackish miasma,

The ragged air of the coast,

I forgot to answer and only smiled.

Waves crashed into the edges of the rock-strewn beach.

The water glistened cold,

My thoughts refracted in its glare,

The lights and shadows that form the fragments of time

Wherein we attempt to make something of our existence.

There are many days like this one,

When connections seem all out of reach,

Purposeless and stale,

Like yesterday’s breakfast,

Abandoned 

On the chequered tablecloth. 

*

Daily Prompt: Isn’t Your Face Red

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40 thoughts on “Resurrection

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    • Great comment, Kaufman’s K 🙂
      Hi Vic, I like your juxtaposition of beautiful coastal imagery, with the mundane. There is a sense that it will go on and on, inexorably limping to its end.

      • Never is the ephemeral nature of our existence as apparent as when we are faced with the seemingly endless tumult of nature. This poem was inspired by a fragment of prose I have been working on for my first novel: a experiment in expressing inner life through outer description. I am glad you thought the contrast worked well. I will see whether it will translate as well in the context of the story. I certainly hope it will.
        PS: I am not certain whether my replies to Kavalkade are coming through. There seems to be a glitch in the system that transforms every single comment I write in reply into a ghost.

      • Hi Vic, good luck with your prose and poetry…I have much confidence in your translating it fairly effortlessly 🙂

        About your replies to Kavalkade (who is very clever and erudite), which disappear into the ghostly vortex, the vagaries of technology never cease to puzzle me.
        I am merrily blundering my way through…only two days ago I inadvertently ‘liked’ my own post! (cringing but true). Just to rub it in, WordPress sent me an email accusing of being vain 😀

      • I know! And I should like you to consider warm cocoa and trying to go to sleep, rather than giving up and writing late into the night.

        Or consider visiting your friendly socialist doctor and talk about your sleep difficulties.

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