sits low on the horizon
the hall clock chimes
it’s the hour of twilight
the chill of night settles
I sit warm in my inglenook
serene in the solitude
for I’m not alone
your sweet memory’s
come to visit
rob kistner © 2020
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I had a feeling this would take on a wistful tone from this:
“the sun through my window
sits low on the horizon
the hall clock chimes
it’s the hour of twilight”
The repetition in the type of syntax gave me a hint. 😉 I honestly don’t know why I thought that, but sometimes, I get feelings on things for no reason.
I love the context in the beginning lines; it really starts to make itself clear right up until the end. That ending just–BAM. That’s the clarity in the entire poem, what it is about. It’s heartfelt, a tad wistful, perhaps even with grief and happiness at not being alone anymore. It’s longing to recollect them as they once were. It’s being in a place of memory.
This is so beautiful and stirring. I can see everything clearly in the imagery you construct in this poem; it’s very vivid, evocative to remembrance of a loved one or friend, and then it seems to have acceptance amid that grief. Brilliantly penned, Rob! Another fascinating poem.
Wow Lucy. You really went to heart of this. You have so much insight, the ability to see what was driving me — where I saw my destination. The mood, the sorrow, the longing, the love – you dissected this brilliantly Lucy, heart and soul. A man being deeply connected with the love that was/is his life, still in love, the love still alive — not like fireworks in the sky, but a hand gently held under the table forever connected, anchored eternally! True…. genuine… just ever understood and profoundly grateful! Bedrock as granite.
We are never alone if we have happy memories to keep us company.
To bring a love through to a point of a lasting beautiful memory is really quite rare. So often a relationship flames out, crashes, and burns, leaving deep bruises — to bring one into a beautiful gentle solid landing — that endures…. almost miraculous.
A familiar scene and familiar thoughts, Rob. I felt like I was there with you.
It is me, musing by a fire — my favorite way to thrill to melancholy. I find love-prompted sadness to be intoxicating. Tears are physically exciting for me — exhilarating. I’m strange, I know Kim…
OOof – I really felt this one in my gut, Rob. May I ask whose memory came to visit? I’m sure they would be moved by your delicate verses.
-David
In the bigger picture Ben, it could be any loved one. To be specific, it was initially inspired by a photo of my current wife of 33 years, and I — from 24 Christmases ago, when our relationship was still sweet, potent, and steamy — but as I edited it down to the finished piece, it became both my deceased 18 year old son, and my father, long passed. As I stirred the piece to refinement, it ultimately became any number of people from my past, now gone.
Oh those memories can keep us company in the darkest of nights. Beautiful Rob.
Thank you Linda… 🙂 Yes, memories can come in to haunt, but mostly mine seem the ultimately sooth me with a flood of tears.
I felt the awesome presence of your son in this, but yes, it does/could encompass the wife and Dad as well. Very touching. You and I are one in that I view weeping as catharsis. Even a movie can give me a good cry–that and any cello solo.
This time it didn’t start with my son Aaron, but as I edited, he entered the piece and put a lump in my throat — as did my father. I cry at movies all the time, love it. As for your cello brother, are those tears of joy, or… 😉
I like this tale told by firelight, Rob…evocative write.
Thank you Lynn… 🙂
To be visited by those benign memories must be so wonderful… but when I read it, my mind went to Scrooge and how he was visited by Marley’s ghost.
Apropos Bjorn, most certainly…
It is true, never alone when memories visit. Sweet!
Thank you Mary… 🙂
Those quiet times open a door don’t they. Such a calming place, there by the inglenook.
Peace can be hard to find sometimes in this crazy world Lisa. A cozy fire is so fine.
There is such wistfulness in this one, Rob! Hopefully the warmth from the inglenook can offer a little calm and peace.
I think I’d be snug, as a bug, in a rug Sanaa… 🙂
You set the stage Rob. So inviting! Lovely.
Thank you Christine… 🙂