fire & ice
fire & ice
the ritual, the sacrament
cutting the tomato
slicing the steak
buttering the toast
telling the old dream
and...
fire was your hair and your finger tips
ice was the glass, the drink
fire was compassion, irritation, love and sorrow
ice was the locker in your heart
where your secrets chilled
between fire and ice
between yes and maybe and absolutely not
where you put down the drink
placed your
hand on a forehead
your cool hand
calm voice
tipping into
slipping off to
fire - your nails clicking the table beside your chair
flipping over the cards, one by one
ice - the list of recipients on the back of the envelope
under 'when my ship comes in'
the smell of your pressed powder
your body encased in that fifties armour
a rouge pot
nestled beside the dance card
with the tiniest pencil attached
by a golden cord
fire
and
ice
what's it going to be?
19 comments:
Fabulous! So evocative, so spare. Thanks for sharing and for the inspiration.
What a lovely poem!
It evoked so many images and left me wanting more, more, more.
I love your header pic, too!
Maggie - thanks! If my mother had lived, she would've been 95 yesterday. At first I did a tributey thing - as I usually do - then this poem popped out.
Tameri - and thank you...I will give you more! My revisioning mind is wanting me to write poems. ha.
Jan - Wow! This is so powerful! You've really shown me what your mother meant to you - such elegant use of words! I am in sincere admiration...
Thank you Margot. I loved my mum and still miss her, nearly twenty years after she died, and wished I could have known more about her. She was a good mum and she was crazy about my dad, but she wasn't altogether happy.
Jan; This is tremendous! The words are so well chosen that I can tell there are fifty words behind each of them.
Oh Elspeth - thank you! Just the stroke I need right now. I buckled down and did my two chapters of revision for the day - now I'll take the Hoagy beast out for a stroll in the 'Scotch Mist' (that's Nova Scotian for rain!)
Beautiful, that's all I can say :)
Oh, that was great, Jan--very nicely done!
So deep with meaning. There's just never one side to anyone. What a way to describe it--fire and ice!
Thanks Claire!
Tartlette - our parents are a constant source of inspiration, no?
Clarissa - fire & ice was the name of the nail polish (Revlon) that my mum wore.
I am not a poetry fan and I loved this! Beautiful.
Thanks Maggie - all the more precious!
Jan, I love this piece -- it's beautifully written and powerful.
Thanks for commenting on my entry! I’m #76. Looking forward to the next assignment!
a vivid portrait of a woman of another age in time. Nice work.
Lee
Tossing It Out
Very evocative of an earlier time and place--MY time. And your mother's. Visual poetry can be powerful, and this one is. Form fits the meaning. I'm impressed!
Ann Best, Author of In the Mirror, A Memoir of Shattered Secrets
Hi Angela - yes - I decided not to take this challenge due to other things I had to do - but I'll jump in next week.
Thanks Lee!
Ann - thanks...I'm glad you appreciate it.
The brevity is so powerful. I'm left with a sense of strength and tenderness all wrapped into one image of warmth. Love it!
thank you for this, Jan -- I came to check on you (!! Alex's insecurewriters) and instead found something infinitely more powerful and relevant. My mum was 100 a couple of weeks ago and Fire & Ice would have suited her admirably. A schoolday friend called her 'sweet and fizzy' to her face. She didn't object, but she would have ADORED your poem.
Marian
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