Ash Woz Here

[Lote-Tree]

"Ash Woz Here"

On a quiet sunday morning
With a smiling sun's warmth
On the garden foliage
And on the window panes,
We are stripping wallpaper
In the room with a steamer.
The job is easy as eating pizza
You hold the applicator against each slice
And the wallpaper easily peels off
Like the way wet clothes drop off
From the body after the shower.

By noon the room is unpleasingly naked
Like an old person with battle scars.
But there was still a wall left
To be denuded, to be made bare
So I apply the the steam against the final strips
The water drips between my fingers like tears
And as the paper falls to the floor
I see etched on the plaster a message
From times past before:

"Ash Woz Here"

In a writing so familiar!
I feel a shock, I freeze
And the water is now dripping
From my eyes, from my heart, from my soul!
The message took fours years to reach me;
From the forgetfulness of memory it has come
To declare itself loud and clear:

"Ash Woz Here"

My little brother who always wore
A smile on his face even when he was in trouble
Even when I chased him up the stairs
For his many dares, for breaking my sun glasses,
My little bro who was never ill in his life
But it was his own blood that turned traitor on him
Doctors said it was "spontaneous Brain hemorrhage"
From undetected "Leukaemia" that took him
And all that left of him is a message on a wall
To remind us that he was indeed here...

Yes, brother you woz here and we loved you for it
And we miss you...we miss you...we miss you...

[ampoule]

I have seen the word exquisite about various poems here and for me, exquisite, fits here. You set the tone early on so that the sharing of Ash was somehow protected within your words, not that I expected death to be involved at all, but it was quiet and respectful, from the tears of the water dripping between your fingers to the writer's own tears, the slipping away of the steaming wallpaper, pizza, wet clothes, and life. When I was finished reading, I felt as though I was standing at the gravestone itself. Whether this is something true from your own life or imagined, you wrote it so beautifully. But it sounds very true and I am sorry for your loss. If I may, I would love to share this poem with a grief workshop.

[Virgil]

Not only is that a very nice poem but if true is heartbreaking. My eyes are all watery. :bawling: That must have been hard Lote. You did a nce job with the poem, taking us through the process of removing the wallpaper:

The job is easy as eating pizza
You hold the apppicator against each slice
And the wallpaper easily peels off
Like the way wet clothes drop off
From the body after the shower.

This half stanza could use a tightening up:

By noon the room is unpleasingly naked
Like an old person with battle scars.
But there was still a wall left
To be denuded, to be made bare
I like the old man with battle scars imagery (I've removed wall paper too so I know exactly what you mean;) ). But I think "denuded" strikes me as slightly awkward here and then you repeat the same point with "to be made bare." Redundant, don't you think?
But I like the conclusion of the stanza:

The water drips between my fingers like tears
And as the paper falls to the floor
I see etched on the plaster a message
From times past before:

"Ash Woz Here"
The rest of course is so honest that it just tugs on the heart. Not sure though why you capitalize "Brain" and "Leukemia."

Lote, when you get the poem just like you want it, print and save it close to your heart.

[symphony]

Did i say earlier that "disciple" was my favorite from you? Forget it. This one is.

The 1st 2 stanzas are brilliant, Lote.
Touches the very core of ur heart...
I so hope it didnt happen...and so fear it did....

[firefangled]

"Ash Woz Here"

On a quiet sunday morning
With a smiling sun's warmth
On the garden foliage
And on the window panes,
We are stripping wallpaper
In the room with a steamer.
The job is easy as eating pizza
You hold the apppicator against each slice
And the wallpaper easily peels off
Like the way wet clothes drop off
From the body after the shower.

By noon the room is unpleasingly naked
Like an old person with battle scars.
But there was still a wall left
To be denuded, to be made bare
So I apply the the steam against the final strips
The water drips between my fingers like tears
And as the paper falls to the floor
I see etched on the plaster a message
From times past before:

"Ash Woz Here"

In a writing so familiar!
I feel a shock, I freeze
And the water is now dripping
From my eyes, from my heart, from my soul!
The message took fours years to reach me;
From the forgetfulness of memory it has come
To declare itself loud and clear:

"Ash Woz Here"

My little brother who always wore
A smile on his face even when he was in trouble
Even when I chased him up the stairs
For his many dares, for breaking my sun glasses,
My little bro who was never ill in his life
But it was his own blood that turned traitor on him
Doctors said it was "spontaneous Brain hemorrhage"
From undetected "Leukaemia" that took him
And all that left of him is a message on a wall
To remind us that he was indeed here...

Yes, brother you woz here and we loved you for it
And we miss you...we miss you...we miss you...

This touches me so much for similar circumstances, but that aside, Lote, this is so heartfelt. And that not always being what makes our feelings poems, you made yours a finely crafted poem that progresses somewhat mysteriously but so naturally. This poetry is made to be like the experience and turns as suddenly as life itself often does. Thank you for sharing this.

[Xillus_Xavier]

All I can say is...WOW

[Lote-Tree]

Whether this is something true from your own life or imagined, you wrote it so beautifully. But it sounds very true and I am sorry for your loss.


Not only is that a very nice poem but if true is heartbreaking. My eyes are all watery. :bawling: That must have been hard Lote.


Ash was my younger brother who died of brain hemorrhage from undetected leukaemia. And it was when stripping wallpaper recently in the house that I found his message etched on the plaster.

I have hesistated in posting this. It was too personal. But I need to keep his memory alive (and I think that is the only thing we can do for those that have gone from us): to preserve the memory as long as we can from the fogetfullness of memory itself...



This half stanza could use a tightening up:
------------
The rest of course is so honest that it just tugs on the heart. Not sure though why you capitalize "Brain" and "Leukemia."
------------------
Lote, when you get the poem just like you want it, print and save it close to your heart.

Thanks Virgil for the suggestions and yes it needs more work. I want this to be a dedication to my brother's memory so I will not suffer the forgetfullness of memory again...


Did i say earlier that "disciple" was my favorite from you? Forget it. This one is.

The 1st 2 stanzas are brilliant, Lote.
Touches the very core of ur heart...
I so hope it didnt happen...and so fear it did....


This touches me so much for similar circumstances, but that aside, Lote, this is so heartfelt. And that not always being what makes our feelings poems, you made yours a finely crafted poem that progresses somewhat mysteriously but so naturally. This poetry is made to be like the experience and turns as suddenly as life itself often does. Thank you for sharing this.


All I can say is...WOW

Thank you all.

[TheFifthElement]

"Ash Woz Here"

On a quiet sunday morning
With a smiling sun's warmth
On the garden foliage
And on the window panes,
We are stripping wallpaper
In the room with a steamer.
The job is easy as eating pizza
You hold the applicator against each slice
And the wallpaper easily peels off
Like the way wet clothes drop off
From the body after the shower.

By noon the room is unpleasingly naked
Like an old person with battle scars.
But there was still a wall left
To be denuded, to be made bare
So I apply the the steam against the final strips
The water drips between my fingers like tears
And as the paper falls to the floor
I see etched on the plaster a message
From times past before:

"Ash Woz Here"

In a writing so familiar!
I feel a shock, I freeze
And the water is now dripping
From my eyes, from my heart, from my soul!
The message took fours years to reach me;
From the forgetfulness of memory it has come
To declare itself loud and clear:

"Ash Woz Here"

My little brother who always wore
A smile on his face even when he was in trouble
Even when I chased him up the stairs
For his many dares, for breaking my sun glasses,
My little bro who was never ill in his life
But it was his own blood that turned traitor on him
Doctors said it was "spontaneous Brain hemorrhage"
From undetected "Leukaemia" that took him
And all that left of him is a message on a wall
To remind us that he was indeed here...

Yes, brother you woz here and we loved you for it
And we miss you...we miss you...we miss you...

Lote, this is a wonderful tribute to your brother. As the other's have said, truly heartfelt and beautifully written, in fact I'd say this is the best I've seen from you yet. The emotion is very strong, it must have been painful to write.

[manolia]

Lote this was a great poem and very touching..i feel very sad for you (knowing that this was true) :(
It must be very hard :(
How old was he?

[AuntShecky]

This was one of the better , if not the best, of the pieces you've posted here. I liked the idea of the wall and all the accompanying images that were sustained throughout.
The concluding lines were poignant and emotionally powerful indeed. Bravo!
Auntie

[Lote-Tree]

This was one of the better , if not the best, of the pieces you've posted here. I liked the idea of the wall and all the accompanying images that were sustained throughout.
The concluding lines were poignant and emotionally powerful indeed. Bravo!
Auntie

Thanks Aunty.