Ellipsis

[Tim J Brennan]

Rain. Again. Air holds
the smell of a struck match.

The breeze is loose around the walls,
tying itself up in the soon-to-shed lilacs.

Father’s breath shows and fades on glass.
I imagine he says if and I wait, not knowing

his language; even after all these years,
all the things he might have meant.

[Colm Roe]

I just noticed this one slipping down the page! I'm on a mini holiday, about to go on a trip...I'll come back to this later.

[Dave]

This is one of my favourites of yours Tim. Moving. If any quibbles, perhaps the punctuation in the last stanza.
Dave

[Tim J Brennan]

I just noticed this one slipping down the page! I'm on a mini holiday, about to go on a trip...I'll come back to this later.

Enjoy the break, Colm. The poem will still be here.

[Tim J Brennan]

This is one of my favourites of yours Tim. Moving. If any quibbles, perhaps the punctuation in the last stanza.
Dave

...edited a bit, Dave. Maybe helps? Thanks.

[Dave]

Yes indeed it does

[indar]

Love the breeze loose around the walls. I got a little olfactory whiplash between the burnt match smell of rain and the implied smell of lilacs in the rain---both of which I yearn for here in SD.

Wonderful sense of the interminable passing of time (to a child) illustrated by the forming and fading of each of the father's breaths on the window. We do indeed spend our lives trying to understand how our relationship with parents shaped us---especially those more problematic ones.

Moving.

 

[Tim J Brennan]

Love the breeze loose around the walls. I got a little olfactory whiplash between the burnt match smell of rain and the implied smell of lilacs in the rain---both of which I yearn for here in SD.

Wonderful sense of the interminable passing of time (to a child) illustrated by the forming and fading of each of the father's breaths on the window. We do indeed spend our lives trying to understand how our relationship with parents shaped us---especially those more problematic ones.

Moving.

 

...any lilac scent was unintentional as this is an autumn poem, Indar. I have huge lilacs in each corner of my lot. I write about them in all seasons. Glad some things seem to be working for you. Thanks for the comments.

[Matty11]

Rain. Again. Air holds
the smell of a struck match.

The breeze is loose around the walls,
tying itself up in the soon-to-shed lilacs.

Father’s breath shows and fades on glass.
I imagine he says if and I wait, not knowing

his language; even after all these years,
all the things he might have meant.

Good one Tim. Especially that opening image. No nit crits from me.

cheers

Phil

[Tim J Brennan]

Rain. Again. Air holds
the smell of a struck match.

The breeze is loose around the walls,
tying itself up in the soon-to-shed lilacs.

Father’s breath shows and fades on glass.
I imagine he says if and I wait, not knowing

his language; even after all these years,
all the things he might have meant.

Good one Tim. Especially that opening image. No nit crits from me.

cheers

Phil

I'm glad, Phil. Thank you.