etched your name...

I fear not being able to recall your voice,                                      

                   the tone of inflection in your laughter                                                 

flibbertigibbet on your most playful days,

  endearing smile in earnest expression

regard for the smallest of creatures

 taking on the underdog's plight as your own,

  fog of your breath on rainy windowpanes

           as you etched your name,

your face lit in amusement's spark

      angle which you cocked your head inquisitively

sweet times you held my hand when you were scared,

 how we both adored the scent

                 of  wildflowers in our tresses,

times we shared in wistful reminiscences

butterflies on your wedding day and the last,

  matter of fact way you'd call me 'big sis'....

most of all I miss the exceptional warmth 

            of your sunshine in every minute's sigh

Author's Note

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

fog of your breath on rainy windowpanes
as you etched your name,
that line right there. I've never lost someone to suicide - only to the monsters of disease and the ticking clock. We are all wired differently - some of it is hard wiring and some - factory second work due to upbringing - the wear and tear of this difficult life on a soul not designed for so much pain...what ever it is - for me personally and what made this poem worm its way down to the place where I ache - is this: for me life presents itself, memory presents itself in the smallest of moments. I remember the exact color and shape of my dad's lips as he read me bedtime stories, when we lived in KS (I was five when we moved to AR) life continues residually in pictures, in songs, phrases, words - and you have captured this with such heartwrenching eloquence. That you can bring this back to the surface with such raw emotion and articulate the beauty in these moments - that is brave. some of us writers - we don't ever get past the rage - we are cynical and toxic. You aren't. The light as others have said just flows from you and your words.

[Tony Jordan]

Me and you and Jack and Kimmer and Tracy and Ricochet and TL and Sami and Pax and Samuel and Marie and Rita L Sev. and Sye and E! - so many good memories of a WC that was a haven. Miss you.
Your butterfly poems always brought a lump to my throat Frieda - and i never forgot Alberobello
(((hugs)))

[Einstein Noodle]

glad you brought this reminder to us Tony! well done! we sure do miss her still eh!?
E.

[Tony Jordan]

Sure do E - it's weird (in a good wistful way) seeing her poems pop up in the 'related writing' section every now and then.
:))

[Einstein Noodle]

yeh! she is here ...in the shadows forever :(

[Sami Khalil]

We truly missed her. One of a kind.

[APOORVA]

this is awesome.
deep and meticulous

[Omikron]

I can't even begin to describe the elitistic nature of this poem.
It's a beautiful poem describing many fears of losing so many joyful things in life, even the smallest details.
It's a little hard read, but it's very well written.

A good piece of work.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Frieda, wild flowers in our tresses,
butterflies on your wedding day and the last.
There are omens to remember and cherish.
truly, Pat

[Bright Ocean Star]

Your precious memories are your connection that will sustain you until such time that you will see her again. Your time is not now, but will come soon enough. Keep her close, talk to her whenever you can; she is nearby. She loves you. She looks over you. She's laughing and smiling down on you at all the silly, romantic, and incredible poetry that your pour out for us to lavish in. She is enjoying every moment of it. Be blessed, my friend.

[Pax]

"I fear not being able to recall your voice"

- I also fear it when I experienced the lost of someone so dear to me. Sometime I think now that I have lost that totally, to recall the physicallity of that person I've lost long time ago. Its been long, & its been hard when you think of the bad times how this person help you get up into your feet when you fall. Now I fall and stand tall despite the aching pain I just experienced in that nasty fall... I guess that idea of this person with me in the past has taugh me to be stronger, and how to see myself as me in the current not in the past... perhaps without the memories of the good times of this person I've lost, maybe I fall completely flat not been able to stand alone strong.

I guess what I am trying to say is that, even though we have missed them, even though sometime we have forget or forget totally what they feel & hear like when their around, the memories of them never fades in our heart, specially those times when we needed them the most.

very expressive piece, dear friend, hugs~

[MAC]

this is not a review.......how could one possibly review your lost and your heart. a truly honest write filled with everything you had in you for your sister. how could you not hurt, nobody will ever understand this pain but you.....write dear Frieda, release it and keeping doing so

[Frieda P]

Thanks Mark, muchly appreciated.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Frieda some healing in the very beautiful reminiscing of your sister. I read it several times for the shear beauty of your poetry. The way you dangle around softness, the purr of your voice reaching me in Pennsylvania and the lasting assemblage of a sweet mind of forever. Kudos for a sweet heart!

[Frieda P]

Your kind words touched my heart Alfred, thank you!

[TheLostMind]

A really good write. Memories - they always seem to bring the best out of people (and this poem is a good example of that).

[Frieda P]

Thanks so much for pausing.

[Baby Ricochet]

You'll always remember the little things about them because those little things loom large in the landscape of memory. Memory has it's own agenda. Look at it without question and you'll come to it's realization. (it's often not what you think) Great poem Frieda.

[Frieda P]

When I figure that out, I'll let you know Mark, thanks so much Baby.