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Echo

The painting that hangs in our room
reminds me of my mother.

As I get older, something will remind me
of her painting of the bouquet.

And so, it will go,
as the echoes seek me out.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: San Francisco Bay Area - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Bukowski, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Haiku & Harvey Kurtzman (a visual poet, of sorts)

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Comments

Geezer

Geezer

6 months 3 weeks ago

And so...

it goes. Plenty of echoes in my life, just don't know if I'm making them or hearing them. I heard the loudness of the silence.

~ Geez.

.

Lavender

Lavender

6 months 3 weeks ago

Echo

Hello, Michael,

My interpretation is that a painting that she didn't do makes you think of her, and something random will remind you of a painting she did create. So very clever - the nature of our memories is much deeper and more complex than the obvious, yet so pure.

Thank you,

L

Michael Anthony

Michael Anthony

6 months 2 weeks ago

Actually, the painting being…

Actually, the painting being referred to is one that she did. I was trying to convey the connections that continually remind me of her painting, and then to my memories of her. So agree with your comments about the nature of our memories - thank you L!