Portrait Poetry Series #1: Visit to Father’s Grave

Portraits Series

I guess I should start by explaining what I am attempting to do with the Portrait Poetry Series.  I started this a while ago (I have approximately 68 or so poems so far) and I have immensely enjoyed writing these.

 

In an attempt to stretch my writing skills, I decided to start writing poems for pictures.  I did not want to just come out and say what I saw – but I wanted to capture the mood, the scenery, and sometimes the moments leading up to the image.  I wanted the image to come alive.  At first, I started sharing the image along with the poem, but I quickly realized that I needed to stretch myself further.  I needed to write the poem so that you did not need the image to see what I was writing about.  Instead, the reader needed to be able to see through my words only.

 

It truly helps in growing your descriptive muscles for sure – but it also allows you to analyze a photo and try to come up with your own story, weaving all the elements the photo or painting contained.  I will post these from time to time (you will notice the same featured image for the series) but the poems will all be different, focusing on a new image each time.  Let the words draw the image for you 🙂

 

Visiting Father’s Grave

 

There was a moment
Of silence
In the garden
That morning
I, but a child
Wrapped in a shawl
To fend off
the cool morning breeze
And mama knelt
Deftly in the grass
Piles of flowers
Held upon her lap
A beautiful array
Of colors
Each chosen
For memories
Strewn across her mind
And unbeknownst to me
At that time
I was but a child
But looking back,
I can see
The morning lily
Red and orange tulips
A spray of daffodil
All flowers
That papa picked
And laid
In swarming rows
Of her garden
He told her
Of their beauty
And wove stories
– mystical tales
Of how each one
Represented
Just a spark
Of beauty
That resides in her heart
Each and every one
He cherished
And adored
She laid them gently
Arranged in rows
Yellows
Oranges
Reds
Whites
Their splendor
Touched her heart
And she began to weep.
I shyly looked away.
She stood
Gathering the flowers
Gently brushed aside
The dirt and grass
From her skirt
And she sighed
Deep and heavy
From the depths
Of her heart
She wiped away
Her tears
And slowly walked
Holding my hand
Toward father’s grave.

© Sumyanna 2016

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. how wonderful…each flower a memory and
    Of how each one
    Represented
    Just a spark
    Of beauty
    That resides in her heart

    looove this line,such beauty in their love,your poem…God bless…love and hugs Sum…can i say that i envy your blog,it’s beyond beautiful,it’s looking great …truly …all the best …love hugs …expect me to read all the previous ones okay….love hugs 👌 💕

    Like

    1. sumyanna says:

      Thanks Seema. Thanks for the comment on the blog. I finally feel like it represents the things I love. My daughter picked out the layout and I believe I am in love with it 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. i need to get myself a daughter now..heehee…tell her she did an awesome job …love and hugs to you both

        Like

        1. sumyanna says:

          I must say, girls are definitely different than boys – but having both, I have to say I enjoy the benefits of both as well. She has a creative eye 🙂 Thanks. You made her smile.

          Liked by 1 person

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