the journey doesn’t end here…

Posted on by saynotoclowns Posted in PoetryTagged , , ,

But she really did love those tiles.

They were hand made

and placed with loving

carelessness, in haste.

 

She picked them for practicality

for their water proof qualities

she thought,

(not thinking about salt water, of course),

and their quirkiness,

something different for everyone.

 

He helped her peel them off,

“it’s time for a renovation”, he said.

And they exchanged those looks.

The knowing one she thought she always had

he now wore.

 

Because really, he knew this was no renovation.

It was simply an unveiling.

(‘Cursum Perficio’ was engraved on tiles in the entrance to Marilyn Monroe’s last home. It wasn’t actually in mind when I started writing this, it came afterwards, hence the title…)

song meaning

 

 

20 thoughts on “the journey doesn’t end here…”

    1. Reply
      saynotoclowns says:

      Thank you for taking time to read, and comment, I really do appreciate your interest and support.
      I guess this one is in the hopes that not so many tiles will be put down again, maybe put in wise and strategic places, but not to be completely covered.
      I was so happy when I thought of that song, and how it ties in to MM, and to the toll fame takes on people, and the armour they use, or don’t, the coping mechanisms all people use to cope, or not. And this is a tribute to friends and loved ones who help us with such things, and do lovely things, like plant seeds to start blogs and whatnot 🙂

      Liked by 3 people

  3. Reply
    maria says:

    “Because really, he knew this was no renovation.
    It was simply an unveiling.”

    You ended this piece with a punch. It’s haunting and makes me want to read more. Truly, the journey doesn’t end here… Well done, Vanessa! 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Reply
    thereluctantpoetweb says:

    Oh, Vanessa!! This was such a joy to read! I loved it on several levels- clever, revealing of he and she, deep contemplation of time and points of view and just Fun! Bravo, My Dear!!! And I am so loving your visits and our chit, chat!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Reply
    Fall Fraust says:

    I liked this piece. It feels cheerful, flowery. I love Marilyn, have a drawing of her on the entrance wall to my bedroom. Your poem took me back to when my ex and I tiled our home, but unlike the couple in your poem, he carefully, methodically placed those tiles – hundreds of them, never saying a word about my dragging him into all of that work. In my defense, I did learn, then take over tile saw duties, and the scrubbing off of the grout on all of those beautiful Spanish green tiles. Our result was a bit haphazard in places. But beautiful still. Funny, the memory that your lovely poem evoked. One thing, among many to love about poets and their poetry 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Reply
      saynotoclowns says:

      Thank you for your comment and sharing that story! I’m sure your hard work looked beautiful in the end! That must have also been a very interesting time taking on such a project together…I am not sure if my husband and I could do it together actually ha!

      I liked the impression you got as well, about it being cheerful, and flowery, thank you. It’s meant to be about new beginnings, and definitely a kind of blooming. When I remembered about the song, though, of course that’s the melancholy side, how tragic that MM had those prophetic tiles at her house…this is obviously juxtaposed against that.
      But it’s been a while since I wrote it…I love reading older posts on new blogs I visit, too. Thanks for reminding me of it 😁

      Like

      1. Reply
        Fall Fraust says:

        You’re welcome. Yes, it really was beautiful, crooked, not totally flat in places, but I loved it. Yes, I’ve always felt that Marilyn exuded a vulnerable, melancholy energy, when, mixed with her luminous beauty, was mesmerizing. I wish that someone could have been there to show her how to fill up that lonely soul of hers, and hold her while she did it.

        Liked by 1 person

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