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Uncle Samuel's House

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  • Uncle Samuel's House

    Uncle Samuel’s House

    I was okay if I had company but on my own, I felt a chill
    A dampness in the air; a breath on a frosty morning
    It hung, it clung; swirling like a fog
    To create the vision of my late Uncle Samuel

    Grey, dead; yet propped up on crutches
    Standing in the doorway, well it had been his house
    My last sighting of him had been in his coffin
    Taken past by my Aunt who never thought to explain
    What death meant, why he was in this wooden box
    Or where the colour went

    Recently I saw his face again but within another’s body
    Full of life, colour, smiling, entertaining as he often used to do
    Then I knew that the grey was in me; not him
    The fog in my mind cleared to recall colour

    The colour of his garden and how he shuffled about
    Weeding, tending, creating: living – in my childhood
    Uncle Samuel’s house was not haunted
    I had haunted myself

    Not sure if this is a poem/prose or what but I felt compelled to write it after years of recalling this grey vision of my late Uncle and always being frightened when alone in his house. Then recently seeing his likeness in another person, of the same name, yet so vibrant that all fears were allayed.

  • #2
    Lovely evolution, wonderful message, and stellar execution. Your work inspires me every time. Thank you.

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks so much, Paula. Very different for me but a very real experience that I felt compelled to write about. I really appreciate your feedback.

  • #3
    mooneyblack in my humble opinion this is something to celebrate. Our loved ones in the afterlife want to be and are with us. I've had the same experience and have welcomed and never feared their presence. As for you write? Absolutely loved it. Just you sharing in a heartfelt sincere fashion.

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you, Bobby. My fear probably emerged as I was so young when it happened and in those days you didn't talk of it. I was also so taken aback by the experience of 'seeing' him in someone else, if that makes sense, that it actually took a while to process it myself and actually admit the experience. But yes, you are quite right, it should be celebrated and I hope in a small way I have contributed to that. Thanks so much.

  • #4
    Unlikely coicidence
    of name and face repairing
    past experience

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Yes, unlikely, uncanny yet so liberating. Thank you, Johntee.

    • RhymeLovingWriter
      RhymeLovingWriter commented
      Editing a comment
      Liberating - yes - I like that!

  • #5
    My two cousins lived two doors down from my grandparents home, but to get there we had to get by uncle Harry’s house. Pray we did he didn’t catch us going by and get that old Dutch rub. Your poem was lovely and brought back a distant memory.

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you, divot so glad it touched you. Many thanks.

  • #6
    This engaging memoir has a foot in both poetic and prose worlds. Overt poetic stylistics are subdued, yet there is a cadence, a rhythm that is unmistakably that of verse. I'd be interested to read a whole novel written this way. This is an affecting, skilfully told memory, mooneyblack, with a fine sense of narrative balance. Zesta!

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Grant, my thanks for such constructive feedback. This one is teasing me towards a short story version which I may yet explore; food for thought - many thanks.

  • #7
    I could feel you evolving and coming into your own. That is always wonderful to experience and to see.

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you, AtL It has taken over fifty years to process and resolve the experience so 'writing it out' has been cathartic. Many thanks.

  • #8
    This brought a year to my eye!

    The beauty of remembrance and self-reflection.

    Many powerful phrases.

    Recently I saw his face again but within another’s body
    Full of life, colour, smiling, entertaining as he often used to do
    Then I knew that the grey was in me; not him
    The fog in my mind cleared to recall colour


    Really brought it home for me.

    Stirring work.

    Comment


    • mooneyblack
      mooneyblack commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks so much Dwayne; I really appreciate your feedback.
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