
Images
I say the word aloud, speak it into my pillow every night; goodbye. And darling, I wish you away. I wish to unknow you, but the images, ages old, they stay; hand in hand we danced Quayside ‘neath the sunny blue, my hair blowing whirly-twirly in the brusque breeze… flickering flip-book of movie stills. I say the word aloud–goodbye–but in my mind’s eye, the Tyne glitters, and you smile, devilish, delicious. I speak the word into my pillow. And I don’t mean it.
#NovemberNotes challenge
Hosted by Sarah at Heartstring Eulogies and Rosema at A Reading Writer.
Excellent painting, reminds me of Atkinson Grimshaw’s works, he is one of my favorites. I wrote a prose poem set to one of his pictures a while back:
https://purelandsutras.wordpress.com/2016/10/14/prose-poetry-set-to-grimshaws-shipping-on-the-clyde/
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“I speak the word into my pillow. And I don’t mean it.”
~Oh dear… that was a big wave of emotion, Kindra. Achingly beautiful prose.
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Thank you, Maria. 😊
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My pleasure 💝
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Lovely and spooky. My husband just showed me a set of pics he took while wandering down there. Bridges on bridges etc . Beautiful allit going on in the old world. Nice.
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Thank you. I would love to visit again. My favorite piece of the world.
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Just so poetically gorgeous and I love that last line.
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Thank ewe! ❤
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