Read Write Poem is having an ekphrastic extravaganza this week, thanks to the talents and generosity of poet and artist Rick Mobbs. Over at Sunday Scribblings the weekly prompt is ‘Ghosts’.
Portrait of Nanda, by Rick Mobbs
“Do you know who I am?”
seeing him
across the street
I fix my gaze elsewhere
inclined to leave
but this is my chair
my spot in the damp air of
morning
the quiet before the children
run off to school
and the mothers
are left behind
to morph into
domestiques
preparing for siesta
and fertilization
a role I too played
long ago
before I faded
into shadows and
became a ghost
to my kin
By Rose Dewy Knickers, July 21st, 2008
Flash Your Knickers Here 
great verse — sounds like a sad lonely person that’s been set apart from their loved ones in life as opposed to a dead spectre – it stirs something within me!!!
A sad, lonely poem. Regrets. It worked perfectly.
I don’t know, Rose, I think our poems have a similar tone, that melancholy feeling of being alone. You did a great job creating a poem that evokes the feeling of the painting.
See Rose, that’s why I keep my hair dyed. My mom told me that as you become gray, you become invisible. I believe that is true in our youth-obsessed culture. I love your poem because it captures the feeling exactly of how life changes as you get older. It’s a tough transition and sometimes lonely too.
I must constantly work at not becoming invisible. Wonderful take on the painting Rose.
your poem and the photo are a perfect mix.
I also like that you’ve put yourself in the title role.
spooky, but in a non threatening way! 🙂
I agree with lucy, first person works great here to really emphasize the feeling of the painting. Very nice!
A ghost? Now that you mention it, she does have a bit of a funny look about her, doesn’t she?
makes me wonder how many ghosts are hanging out in various chairs observing the world around them…
I am touched by the all to real observation that we shift our eyes from those who so often require nothing more than a smile from us.
(((((Rose)))))
poignant, moving, true
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Hey “Sweet…” I STILL look funny. Haven’t faded yet.
Love the poem Rose. Rick is a great artist and this portrait might be someting else soon if he keeps it, he keeps changing it.
Thanks one and all for all your comments and links. I really like this poem myself.
Rose
xo
Morphing mothers- a vivd image. I love this poem.
I like the way you narrator talks about invisibility.
I think this poem summed up one of the reasons that I rejected a domestic lifestyle. I’m not interested in fading away.
Also one of the reasons I will probably keep dying my hair too. It’s a sad statement when age no longer equates valued wisdom, but equates merely lost beauty instead.
-Nicole
this makes me feel like she has sunk deep within herself,, i really enjoyed it..
Interesting poem and responses. I appreciated the underlying anger that has the narrator rejecting or lamenting her “domestique” role (traditional housewife who cleans, has children, and who “sleeps” her future away). But the poem begins with such strength as she claims “her spot in her chair” that I’m not quite ready for her to simply become invisible in death.
became a ghost
to my kin
It’s interesting how the comments are split between this meaning Nanda is dead or that she’s invisible. When I wrote this, ‘ghost’ means the latter interpretation; a woman who has done everything her family and society demanded and who has been set aside and ignored by her kin.
Thank you so much everyone for delving into this poem and seeing beyond the words.
Rose
xo