Eileen? Poem by Martin O'Neill
Eileen?
Dust motes float, trapped.
Suspended in the timeless amber
Of a sepia Wednesday.
The cheap carriage clock, tarnished
Tocks into the silent hum of the day.
A fly drones, settles.
Eileen rises from her chair
With more grace than of late, lightly
She smooths her dress and looks around.
The teacup, cold, and the the book, unread,
Birthday cards on the mantlepiece
And a box of chocolates, two eaten.
She smiles, walks to the door,
Puts on her coat and hat
And gently, quietly, takes her leave.
In the chair her former self
Remains, waiting for the relatives
To find her, apparently asleep.
had a best friend that left in such a way. It's not the most enjoyable experience being the one to find their former self. This is a powerful and effective write. Has such an easy flow, reads very well aloud. Brings back a few memories.
Martin, loved the way your poem moved along. Powerful to say the least.10/10 Ian
A powerful poem. The opening stanza, a fading picture of a past era and the last three lines place Eileen there. The question mark in the title is a lovely touch. One can imagine the relatives trying to wake her - a linguistic triumph. S :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 7:37:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh wow! Just wow! I have not been commenting on this site in quite a while. Somehow I wound up here and I am delighted with this morbid, haunting write. It really packs a punch friend. That ending...what can one say?