Monday, June 8, 2009


' the attic '

motes of dust prick her eyes
forming a liquid film
a shaft of light intersects the shadows
inside the attic
gaze transfixed on an old lawn-mower
she remembers
her father's voice
rumblings of warm laughter
merged with the drone of a machine
where they stood watching
through unseen pathways of the wind
a shimmer of flowery wings
zigzag across the dahlias
to land on nasturtiums
the crisscrossing of ifs and buts
pollinating life
she wipes the lawn-mower
fondly ..

/ original / z.g.


  1. so many wonderful things intersect in this poem, light and shadow, sight and memory. I paricularly like the lines:
    "the crisscrossing of ifs and buts/pollinating life" -- lovely!

  2. Your critics are pretty thorough! I will say that even your swipes on the lawn mower leave cris-crosses with every memory they bring.
    All the pathways and zigzags are nice too even if only a few do cross.

  3. Wonderful and overflowing with nostalgia, you took me there.

  4. wow ! brilliant and warm imagery :)

  5. Oh how lovely! Great interpretation of this prompt, loved it!!!

  6. A shaft of light brings it all back to life.
    I love the memory evoked, the aching moment when she touches the lawnmower. Beautiful!

  7. Dear zoya--
    I really loved this poem. Subtle and gracious. Grief and love all mixed up in the dust.

    Lovely--thank you.

  8. Oh- this made me cry... I have spent the last week at my mom's going through her things- trying to decide what to save and not for an estate sale next weekend. So hard to much many tears- not all of them sad. This poem was just perfect. Thanks~

  9. I just love this. Such a feeling of love and warm memories. You my dear are so lucky.

    love, Melanie-bd

    lost my BD site to malware....
    New site called Beloved Haiku Dreams

  10. Love the gentle intersection of dreamings and realities! Very beautiful!

  11. It is true your poems are haunting Zoya

  12. I loved this, especially 'crisscrossing of ifs and buts'. The imagery and the feeling of warmth reminds me of a time and season - childhood summers. Just lovely.