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Pic and a Word #282: Cavernous

Today’s poem and photos are from two different countries but they share that hollow cavernous feeling which Patrick knows so well.

The photos were taken last August in Sutri north of Rome where they have a lovely Roman amphitheatre that was dug into the tufa rock between the 1st and 2nd centuries AD and rediscovered in the 19th century. At this time it was fully brown but I have seen some photos of it when it’s lush and green.

No need of captions today, feel free to entertain own cavernous thoughts as we stroll.

As for the poem, it really happened this way a few days ago. And after that I went to uncle’s garden and wrote it on my laptop while mosquitos were having a feast.


I’m walking bestia
in the first hood of my life, 
the one where nothing ever happened.
Not yet.

That cavernous 
that needs filling.

I see blocks of flats,
the same as they ever were,
and wish to ring those same bells:
Jeras, Bohorič, Uranič.

Let’s hang out.

I don’t even look to see
if the names are still there.
Something tells me they aren’t.
It’s been nearly forty years.

Then I pass the house 
of my first love
who would have preferred 
not being told about being it.

There is a man taking out the trash.

I spy from afar.
Same walk. Check.
Same hair. Check.
Same build. Check.
Then I see how slow he is.
Then I see how bald he is getting.
I don’t get to the build.
No need.

When he is done
and returns to the house
I realise: 

There is no way 
I could tell him apart from his father
even if the man turns around
and smiles
his cavernous smile.

In response to Patrick Jennings’ Pic and a Word Challenge #282: Cavern

This day in my blogging history


Published by Manja Maksimovič

A Slovenian in Italy for love. Blogger, photographer, translator and would-be writer who would be a writer if she wrote. Plus reluctant but emerging poet. Beware.

10 thoughts on “Pic and a Word #282: Cavernous

  1. I love poems which send me on tangential paths of discovery.

    <smile> We try to go back to what was, only to find even our nostalgia has moved on.

    And, yes, if we carry an expectation that time has stood still, except for all the corrections which might make the past better, then a cavernous hollow is all that we are likely to find.

    But if we go back expecting the hollow, then we can fill it with our presence, and leave the memories where they lay, to be enjoyed the way we enjoy the remains of colosseums abandoned to history.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ahh, brilliant, Patrick. Thank you for this musing. Quite right. Filling things with our presence, and our present, tends to be beneficial. Nostalgia indeed moves on and we better keep abreast. The wish to have a better past must go.

      Liked by 1 person

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