I wait in the rain for a taxi. This street is newly paved. The scent of smoke and oil hover, curl in the air. Flecks of light reflect in the water reminding me of diamonds. There wasn’t any pavement where we lived on the coast, only snow, gravel and mud. The winter months were best when we simmered in out nest, wintering wasps. The white clapboards preserved us like a museum vault. We celebrated spring by splashing them with schoolhouse red, a sign, you said, of something we cherished. But paint cracks and fades quickly in sandy, salty air. You left in October before the first snow. There was a long note, more than I planned to do. It is still raining, the taxi driver is saying something. I am remembering the night sky over the coast, the way stars would shine out over the ocean, a million hard diamonds. Open link night at the Pub
Diamonds in the Street
21 Tuesday Jan 2014
brian miller said:
i like hoe you use the paint to set up things not lasting…and how you subtlely hint you both knew it, she just beat you to the note…i like how you bookend the memory in the present as well..
oh wow…this is a cool poem… love the storytelling and weaving in of memory… a contemplative write…really well done… touching images..
Björn Rudberg (brudberg) said:
The urban beginning and into the mud — what a leap of thought, and at the end tying it together with those diamonds… really a great line of thought.. with that melancholy tied in there…
Marvelous. Your descriptions are sheer perfection. I like how the paint reflects how our memories can fade. I could smell and see the line “a scent of smoke and oil hovers, curling in the air.” Beautiful.
Raven Spirit said:
I so identify with each verse here that it is uncanny! Each verse, however the most relevant verse being:
There wasn’t any pavement
where we lived on the coast,
only snow, gravel and mud.
The winter months were
best when we simmered in
out nest, wintering wasps.
And then there was mud-season!
I picture someone coming back to a place they used to know and thinking about how things used to be. The taxi driver is talking, but the protagonist is lost in his own thoughts. This is a very poignant poem, Ron. I am not sure I have the idea exactly, but it definitely drew me in.
I like how the new road triggers off old memories and a past love story. I enjoyed your imagery, the red flaking paint and the work of the sand and rain. Great poem, Ron!
I read this a few times… it’s so lovely, melancholy, nostalgic, and very well-crafted. The metaphor of the paint cracking, and the rain, and of course the hard diamonds. A great poem..
“There was a long note,
more than I planned to do”
how words can slash deep
I hear a hint of the great Billy Collins in this piece. Nice write!
Kathryn Dyche Dechairo said:
Memories of a love story beautifully written. I love the wintering wasps, the cracking of the pain and ending with those hard diamonds.
A scene that comes to life. Nice juxtaposition between two places and two times.
Glenn Buttkus said:
Excellent poetics, Ron; vague as to intent, but riveting as to words, images, movement, emotion; anything painted red, like the image artistically of the red umbrella gets my attention–still confused as to who wrote the note though.
Your poem is like watching a movie.. Something triggered the flashback. I am familiar with that wave of nostalgia that washes over you making you oblivious to what is going on around you. So difficult to express in words and you did it so well . Too good:)
Poem was so very sweet the way you have titled it awesome
Ronald E. Shields said:
Thank you Lasha.
Anthony North said:
Memories, emotion, mood – all interweaving into a great work.
It’s hard to find those starry skies any more.
I love the moment’s reflection, just letting us breathe in the scenery & emotional undertones ~ Deftly done ~
I really enjoyed this melancholy rush here…there’s just something about waiting for a taxi in the rain that gets me 😉
A great capture of the memory, a lovely share.