Alison Cassidy

Rookie (6th August,1945 / Melbourne, Australia)

Still Life - Poem by Alison Cassidy

They sat
motionless,
back to back
in the bright ginghammed cafe.

(Their carers had left them
to pay for scones and tea)

He stared with empty eyes
at the blue green hills
spread out like a quilt.

Her eyes were empty too
as she studied her hands
gnarled into soft claws.

Two strangers
who didn't know
where they were
or who they were
or why they were sitting
so still
so still
in the bright ginghammed cafe.

I folded my unread newspaper.
A small wisp of distant smoke
curled like a ribbon.


Comments about Still Life by Alison Cassidy

  • (12/29/2007 3:08:00 PM)

    Hi, Allie! This scene is wonderful; I can see it so vividly through your writing - excellent images! Have a wonderful day! Beth (Report)Reply

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  • (12/24/2007 9:37:00 AM)

    Beautifully done. Muriel Rukeyser defined poetry as 'a meeting place...poetry asks us to feel and to respond.' Your poem certainly fits this definition in more than one way. (Report)Reply

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  • (11/22/2007 6:46:00 PM)

    Good work honey! This is a really good poem. (Report)Reply

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  • (10/6/2007 6:42:00 PM)

    So tightly knit, yet so open to imagination.

    The first poem of yours i chose to skim my eyes over, and i've been drawn in already.

    I do agree with your view that the urge to create is universal. I have a few new poems up.. any criticisms or comments you might make would be greatly appreciated!

    Take care, Mark.
    (Report)Reply

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  • (8/17/2007 11:58:00 PM)

    Against a beautiful background, two lost and lonely souls sit silently. As always great imagery.

    Take care
    (Report)Reply

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  • (8/17/2007 5:42:00 PM)

    Still life really a painting and a photograph that speaks of emptiness (Report)Reply

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  • (8/13/2007 12:37:00 PM)

    Wow. Still life - perfect title, wonderfully detailed scene. 10+. -chuck (Report)Reply

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  • (8/12/2007 11:50:00 AM)

    well, interestingly, Allie, I forgot your title, read the poem, and thought to myself, 'let's see, what is this about? ' And the word that came to me was...motionlessness.
    Then I saw the title again, and felt SO satisfied!
    (Report)Reply

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  • (8/11/2007 11:37:00 PM)

    I loved the imagery in this poem (it's frailness) and you really captured the scene vividly. If there's one thing you can't do, Allie, it's to be apathetic. Your words are filled with the compassion of an artist, and you craft them well. a fine poem! XX Lynette (Report)Reply

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  • (8/11/2007 3:13:00 PM)

    Firstly, your title per se, presents its double implication a la another ubiquitous Lyfshinian style poem during her finest hour; an abbreviatied breakage of lines, all the while suggesting time is running out on all of us who care about sensitivities. What a chance we act on nightly! Insertions of commas & such; that is proper punctuation, to make its way toward a proper presentation. You have done so respectfully! (Report)Reply

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  • (8/10/2007 11:01:00 PM)

    A fragile scene filled with empathy, compassion and respect. (Report)Reply

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  • (8/10/2007 1:04:00 PM)

    Life has indeed stilled for these two people. Written with great sensitivity. and beauty.
    Praise for your compassionate pen.

    Love,

    Sandra
    (Report)Reply

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  • (8/9/2007 6:00:00 AM)

    They sat motionless, back to back.... had they sat face to face, the still life could have been turned ALIVE! Only when we face the realities in life could we be awaken from a still life! Excellent write madam. Highest marks! (Report)Reply

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  • (8/5/2007 3:25:00 AM)

    ......a vivid word picture of obscurity and sadness of dementia (Report)Reply

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  • (8/4/2007 4:55:00 PM)

    Excellent write of either passion lost or a new encounter not connecting... this is really good Alison..~~~mm. :) .~~~ (Report)Reply

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  • (8/4/2007 11:33:00 AM)

    this was another fine poem. so well penned as only you can do. (Report)Reply

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  • (8/3/2007 8:43:00 AM)

    another excellent poem of yours, Ali..love it (Report)Reply

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  • (8/3/2007 8:32:00 AM)

    This is the second piece I have read this week which strikes me as somewhat Eliot-ish.... and I will say as to that other piece, from me and for my taste, there can be no finer compliment. t x (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 3, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, March 26, 2011


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