Jonquils

Smell sweet, Daphne does too .

There is beauty in stabilised ruins;
rusting scaffolds, prickling hessian,
and summer rooms vapoury drapery
limp before damp frosted glass.

I can’t believe everything’s still here.

Daphne permeates naked timbers
porous cracked and powdery bricks;
roils in on floor draughts up dingy passage ways
drawn by cold chimneys to each room.

I can’t believe summer hasn’t taken them.

I can’t believe the roof still stands
under four seasons of leaves; from
that old walnut, bare, girdled tightly by ivy
murdered by the merciful sun last season,

it would offer up sweet fruits
if only someone would beat the cockatoos.
I lean into the garden to gather up jonquils
shiver to feel this old place was never left alone.

I can almost smell raisin toast, cinnamon,
and hear those children excited by brand new lambs,
but the breeze nipped the back of my neck, tucking memories
right back to yesterday when I forgot.

But I remembered enough to pick the jonquils,
and bring them to you.

Author's Note

I was with a friend of mine yesterday and drove past a place I�ve not stopped at for a number of years now, it makes me a little sad to see such a lovely historical stucco, brick and timber farm house go to ruin, you could play cricket in the hallway its so big.. It�s been empty for years now but I remember when it wasn�t.. Anyhow we were nosy and went out back where the big old walnut tree shades the back door and I turned the handle.. No one locks anything around here, and so of course it creaked open.. we wandered in and it was as I remembered, and believe it or not still furnished.. after all this time no one has gone near the place, I guess it will all be claimed by time in time. Funny how the mind drifts to pleasantries.

Reviews

[Michael X]

Di, this is touching and really imparts a feeling of subtle sadness,
memories and thinking about those places, forgotten by time,
rusting, and its that beauty, that haunting ambience of stillness,
that triggers not forgotten by the heart, I think your wording
is brilliant, simply beautiful, I shall find myself coming back to this poem.

[theludus]

Actually, the last lines are perfect.

[Touché Armada]

Hey you, how's the new year? Fabulous? Mines going to be bedlam, I already know what I'm in for LOL.. but that's not less than fabulous.

[Clockwork]

Visiting these abandoned ruins is one of my favorite past times. Many buildings around my old home in Pennsylvania were exactly like the one you described in your lines. While It was sad to see them deteriorate, I was always in awe of what remained, and what nature created from the ruins. One of my favorites was an abandoned train bridge with trees growing between the ties.

I really love how you celebrate the beauty of the ruins. One of my favorite parts of this piece is your
second stanza where you talk about the plants growing in the timbers of the building.

I am also so glad you included the sensory details about the history of the building. I can almost smell the raisin toast and hear the children. Those images give us a peak into the rich history of the building, which really shows us how valuable this location was in its heyday. Beautifully written.

[theludus]

Daphne permeates naked timbers
porous cracked and powdery bricks;
roils in on floor draughts up dingy passage ways
drawn by cold chimneys to each room.

This passage personifies the whole poem, there is such crafting in this poem, such detail and worldly knowledge as exemplified by the part about the chimney draughts, I love how you took the daphne all the way through the house, and I have seen old places like this. It's a very very good poem, and ones as rich and detailed as this are the very ones I cannot write.

Your closing lines were fine for content but seemed to leave the rhythm behind. Otherwise this is brilliant mate.

[Matthew Paul]

Amazing. You never struggle to impress me with your ability. When I can actually devour your eternally deep intellects rhythm I get such well scripted imagery and it is truly a joy to read.
I much admire this.

[theludus]

hey, it's four am and well past my bedtime. You can write too. This isn't a goat's bottom. It's quite fine in fact.

We'll catch up soon, and I'll steal you're voodoo.

the picture is of my daughter. and she is not yet two.

[Ed Hart]

i was going to leave a 'review', but it's all been said below, so i'll just say thank you...

[Gandré]

this expressed very fine sadness. I thought... what a must read, the melancholy was fine and almost hidden. It made me wanting to go there. great poem.

[Gandré]

This is very good poem, in each sense, high level poetry. I enjoyed very much this "limp before damp frosted glass." and "porous cracked and powdery bricks;"" and "that old walnut, bare, girdled tightly by ivy
murdered by the merciful sun last season" so wonderful.......

[Sabine]

feeling stuck, I looked to find a beautiful poem, I found your poem, in addition, so touching and the line,

murdered by the merciful sun last season

so freeing. It is a true gem. Sabine

[Emily B]

I found my way back the way I sometimes do and, oh, what a wonderful adventure. This is truly beautiful writing. Truly beautiful and I'm glad to read it again.