the yellow dress

October 13, 2008 at 8:50 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 18 Comments
Tags: poetry, writing

there were days and children
meals and books
there were laughing eyes
sparkling light

now he has forgotten
his original intention

only the yellow dress remains
a flowing surface
beneath which mystery moves
and dreams take flight

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note to me submitted to foam:e
is it a yellow summer dress?
It could be, tiny one,

Comment by aefiel— October 13, 2008 #
the yellow dress!
oh paul.

I’m cooking, but i’ll come back,
Yummy, what’s for dinner, Ebby?

Comment by beeskiffle— October 14, 2008 #
That was quite…sorrowful.

A bittersweet memory.
Thanks, Crushed.

Comment by Crushed— October 14, 2008 #
again a wonderful and skillful movement of time ad-dress-ed, un-dress-ed

i’m glad the speaker still dreams of the yellow dress even though it seems the days with the children are gone to him
It’s funny how these things work out, Gwendolyn, I imagined this just as the night after the day, most people seem to have seen the first stanza as long before. Both are fair enough.

Comment by artpredator— October 14, 2008 #
How beautiful that he sees past the children, the books and all memories, to still feel the desire that is the essence of her. Such a lot from so few, with only a hint of whispers to complete.

Whoa, that sounds a bit double dutchish from me again. I always get so gushy when I like them. I’ll try again tomorrow. Ha!
Ha,

Comment by Mary P— October 14, 2008 #
Like a sun in memory, yes, flying. I love your poem. And funny I’m just thinking I never wore a yellow dress, or I forgot.
Thanks for those dancing words.
And thank you, Mae for your lovely comment.

Comment by maelinat— October 14, 2008 #
mystery and dreams, all under the umbrella of a summery yellow dress. i love the remiscing sense of the poem. makes this memory feel very old.
Thankyou, Mrs Ott.

Comment by mrs. sarah ott— October 14, 2008 #
This poem had a curious effect. It made me aware of that space below my crotch; that small triangle of light seen just above where my thighs touch if I’m standing with my legs together. And for some reason that made me sad. There is something lovely and bright behind this yellow dress of yours, but also darkly melancholy and fragile. Perhaps it just made me feel my age or notice that some dreams have long since been forgotten. Not necessarily because they no longer hold merit. Just because they no longer have a chance to be.
Thankyou, Jezebel. That is a curious effect. Your comment is wonderful, how I wish your name was a link so I could return the favour.

Comment by jezebel— October 14, 2008 #
A very eloquent piece of writing that touched on a bruise, though I am sure that was not your original intention.
No, sorry about that, Brad.

Comment by Brad— October 14, 2008 #
This is a sparkling light!

Mysterious dreams might be beneath anything not only a silky dress and everything has a folded corner for curious dreamers…Dont you think so?
Yes I do, Sherifa. That is a lovely comment, thankyou.

Comment by hayat— October 14, 2008 #
and i looked stunning in that yellow dress
in my youth
Ahh, yes, Ozy. I remember it well, you were gorgeous.

Comment by ozymandiaz— October 14, 2008 #
What exquisite economy, Paul. Like reading a Sumi-e painting. It’s a polished mirror for each heart that reads it. Thanks!
What a compliment. Thankyou, Wayne.

Comment by Wayne— October 14, 2008 #
These are the type of words which seem to rustle away at the top of the giant trees on mountains, their canopies soothing each other with hushed whispers, capturing how the mind wanders so quickly and forgets its intentions each time, each time waking up to some new illusion and getting lost in it. Beautiful analysis. Amazing. I would be obliged if you come along on a trek! 🙂 There are beautiful places in the Himalayas where I walked, where even the tiredness of the feet and the abnormality of reality gets faded into a distant knowledge of absurdity. It’s good to be back home, but it’s always better to run away! 🙂
You’re back! Next time I am definitely coming with you, Sumedh. Welcome back.

Comment by Sumedh— October 14, 2008 #
It flows wonderfully.
I still read it nostalgic: white lace, the yellow dresses forgotten on the back of the chair when she left in a hurry maybe. But I go through a bout of nostalgia myself.
Annamari, all readings are valid. It’s very open this piece, more a catalyst than anything else. I think yellow is a colour with varied associations,

Comment by Annamari— October 15, 2008 #
i love this; yellow is so gorgeous … i don’t have a yellow dress but my home wears a lot of it …

there’s something about the nature of yellow that is seamless, it flows through timedreams, unites them somehow …

this poem describes the mystery of creation and dreamtime … it is the Mother of all colours … *heh …

and this poem is VERY beautifulyellow …
Thankyou, Shell, for another wonderful comment,

Comment by Shell— October 16, 2008 #
Oh, bravo. a new favorite.
Thankyou, Harmonie. How is your recovery going?

Comment by harmonie22— October 16, 2008 #
I like the dreams take flight ending. Leaves me wanting more information.
Thanks, Bekki.

Comment by nectarfizz— October 16, 2008 #
Ah yes, yellow is very special, as is ‘sparkling light’ – those people at foam-e aren’t stupid.

Comment by Gabrielle Bryden— March 24, 2010 #