- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Sepia
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Occasionally the mist lifts
from the middle past and we can see
severe gray ships come slowly drifting
past the shallows, slower past the jetty -
the reef far back to sea a stroke, off-white -
and on to meet the ghostly group
of waiting people, sporting spats, umbrellas,
and wearing topees and moustaches, twirling canes.
Then there’s the trees behind a sheet of rain,
stately, tall; a native couple
stands back behind the cold grey eyes
of white authority, a fleeting smile
to light their faces till again the mist
blots it all out: just trees and natives stay
there to endure while strangers fade away.
- COMMENTS
ishtatover 11 years agoThis is the best poem of yours that I have read. Nothing to add to comments already expressed particularly by the mountaineer.
But I didn't see this as a particular photograph as some did, more a way of looking at the past.
buttersover 11 years agothis works so well as a spoken piece. though the title suggests photograph, the words you've used, textured, layering, suggestion of movement, feels more the description of a painting as has already been mentioned. makes me wonder if 'sepia' could refer to a skin colour, a blending of that white authority and the enduring natives left to cope after the cold gray ships have departed.
a pleasure to read such skilful use of language.
Angelineover 11 years agoYou've captured another time and presented it in ghostly wisps. Love how it fades in and out. Very haunting and just slightly spooky.
DawnJover 11 years agoThis is very much a painted image, isn't it, Demure? The "mists of time" have white-washed reality, or else it's an old painting, aged by time, and thereby softened. Even with the deliberate word choices that indicate a painful truth, the mists paint over the pain, almost, and allow the strangers to "fade away". As if the artist has painted them out of the picture with "a stroke, off-white"... Very clever, Demure!
