my body becomes so small

I  could fit into the  minuscule heart

of a sea bird begging salt  with his  pulpy tongue.

A discarded shirt hangs on the bed post

and every trace of you remains where

I return and return.

My cries unravel the clouds,

rain down like summer storms.

Carry  me close  in your chest

deep in your heart through the

rhythmic sounds of railways

through the snow covered alps

or  the black tar of foothills.

 

 

 

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131 thoughts on “when I miss you

        1. It is I who am repeating, because I am so grateful for your lovely comments and support but sometimes run short on how very much I want to thank you. You can repeat yourself as much as is necessary, I am always grateful for your comments.

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  1. love this poem, You started with “when I miss you” I took it for longing. I also like “rhythmic sounds of railways.” For me, I have something else. We don’t have rails here. I like it when poems are written this way. I think I’ll go and check your other poem with a similar subject. The one I read like a song.

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      1. Besides les Fleurs du Mal which I adore (La très chère était nue et connaissant mon coeur elle n’avait gardé que ses bijoux sonores…) Baudelaire is the one who translated Edgar Poe and gave him a public in France. Double hit! 🙂

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  2. Excellent, the way you scatter unrelated images like confetti should not work except with you, of course, they do and that’s a testament to your skill and sensitivity to the piece you are writing. The image of a heartbeat like a thumping train echoing off canyon walls is a stunning example as is the discarded shirt on the bed suggesting the shape of a begging seagull. Great work as usual

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  3. Your words never cease to please. It’s a love fest over here!
    Hey, the band is warming up. The floor boards beneath my feet are quivering. I’ll bet they had tequila shots.
    Here it comes…. the first song and it’s… YOU”RE SO VAIN. ya!!!!

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    1. Thank you Audrey, it’s good to open up and let the those feelings out, never concern yourself with what others will think or like.
      As writers when we begin to do that we are lost. Plus, it is great therapy. ❤

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  4. Wow lovely, truly heart touching❤️. For you to feel like that, I’d never leave your side.😍
    🌹This was beautiful and full of emotion, from the heart as all your writings are. Your writing is 10 percent art and 90 percent heart and that’s poetry.🌹🌹

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  5. And I have missed not being here too Holly, Loved your poem, heartfelt words as we miss those who mean the most..
    Please do not worry Holly, about not seeing my post.. I was absent a while, and have only this week got back to revisiting commentors to their blogs. Learning to step back and nurture my energy from the fatigue I have felt.

    While the fog from my brain has lifted its depression, these last two days of weather in thick fog of gloom here in England’s supposedly Spring, the weather is not fit to be in the allotment, So I am here a couple of hours at a time while I get my blogging head back into gear.. Too long on the computer seems to tire me, So I am taking things slowly.. I wish I knew what ailed me, except my longing for the Sun to warm my bones..
    I have neglected many of my favourite people, and for that I apologise, so never worry about missing a post, I miss so many of your own wonderful poetry,

    Sending Huge hugs and Much love Holly.. Take care also. ❤

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    1. Dear Sue, I am wishing you warmth and joyfulness and all beautiful things. I am thinking of you and know that the beauty of spring is just around the corner and will lift the spirits of us all. Sending you hugs, love, and (if it were possible) a basket of sunshine. ❤

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  6. Holly the sensual references to the discarded shirt which would linger with the fragrance of the departed lover and use of rails to imply the romantic sense of a journey on a train. Keith

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