by Kate Demeree
She left without notice
No forwarding address
Nothing left behind
To attest, to her having passed
Just a subtle scent hanging
In heavy summer air
And a cat who still
Lingers beside her stair
Scratching behind his ear
In memory of sweetmeats
Soft moaning, sighing a maiden's tear
The hangdog doorman
Still standing his post
Pauses to wonder
If she were a ghost
Or wayward wind
Whose voice now still
Will sound again
With the blue moon
Posted on 08/12/2003
Copyright © 2021 Kate Demeree
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Ken Harnisch on 08/12/03 at 04:48 PM|
lovely as a soft summery night...wistful is the word that comes quick to mind
|Posted by Brian Francis on 08/12/03 at 09:20 PM|
Wonderfully ethereal. Nice work.
|Posted by Anne Engelen on 08/13/03 at 11:36 AM|
glad to see it hear!
|Posted by JD Clay on 08/14/03 at 12:43 PM|
Like the title itself, the veiled voice of this luring poem has stolen the main character along with the night. Good stuff, Kate.
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/17/03 at 06:47 AM|
Ah, the image of that dog waiting... how evocative! Kate, you express the mood of loss so beautifully here. Very well done.
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/17/03 at 12:34 PM|
that art, that heart, you speak both fluently.
|Posted by Rachelle Howe on 02/24/09 at 01:11 AM|
Huh. At first, I thought this was going to be a poem about beer. HA. Just kidding. Mostly. Anyway, I missed the third layer to this. I thought that there was something waiting to punch through and didn't. I understand that well. I wish you could pour it back on and really SHOW it. Oh! And I like the internal rhyme. Usually I hate rhyme but when it isn't overt, I really appreciate it.