Susan Ashley Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

April 20, 2026

~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: Beach
Sponsor: Rob Carmack

~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 1465
Sponsor: Brian Strand
 

*Poet’s Note: I seem to be endlessly fascinated with England’s Victorian era. Their mourning customs, especially women's use of widow’s weeds (long black crêpe dresses), weeping veils, black parasols, always entices my imagination and I wonder if I have lived a past life in the age of Queen Victoria :)

Content Warning: my verbosity got the best of me.. this is a lengthy poem (though I didn't use up all my characters and most sentences are short lol!). I applaud you if your read it to the end :)

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Black Parasol

Oh how the sun chafes

the parasol betrays
his flame and fades 
his fame for brightening holes 
in a honeycomb net of regret
bone bobbin lily-lace 
silk garden sewn and grown—
a veil mid breath and death
hides the widow’s face 
absent of light

the night-dyed parasol 
downplays his flame
and shades his fame 
for coaxing white daisies
to displant a cast-iron wraith
filling a sorrow’s-hole in the soul 
of a mourner unconsoled

her gloom-gloved hands
hold a teardrop handle
delicate 
as a pear-shaped tear
a solitaire clasped to a frilly lash
before its dash 
down a fragment 
of her figurine cheek—
another drop fills a daffodil’s cup

the black parasol’s crêpe ruffles  
f l u t t e r
like a dark tressed debutante's 
chocolate-eyed fringe
breezes breathe into willow ribs
tugging
on a parasol’s windy-wish
—oh its windy-wish— 
to  g l i d e
with cumulus 
a raven amongst doves
soft and away  an aerial display
a whoosh-y rebellion 
against Victorian theatre-grief

her absent-minded hands 
turn the parasol 
a tragic automatic pinwheel
bereft of joy—heartache’s toy
a drudge 
attending to her lady’s 
dirge of thoughts…
the parasol 
heavy 
with gravity 
of desires unfulfilled

a parasol-pall spins
with a twirl as sad 
as duskywing’s death spiral—
her accessory witness 
to wish-casting and storm-bearing
a weeper’s keeper 
of concealed daydreams 
a comfort 
from the chiseler sun
who dares to cast a prying lamp
onto her private funeral eyes

she stands alone
a cipher at his grave 
grim as a nun in black habit
a conscience without a convent
a vestal without virginity
decorative… useless

she stands alone
as a barren Rose of Sharon 
a fallow mallow enmeshed
in the bramble of widow’s weeds
a meadow-saffron 
without delights of earthy spice—
who savors only flavors
of drip-dried-dreams 
brined in saline sorrow 

she stands alone
a monologue shadow
reciting silhouette soliloquies 
gray rainbow-lips
rhythmic in her reverie—
a weave threads in a tempest
where laughter and wail entangle
ascending in wrangle-whirl 
to startle-s a i l
like a starling murmuration
across fair-skinned skies 
marred by cirrus scars—
phantom flock-of-phrases  f l y
pulsing
light and dark 
before dropping 
from earless care-less air
bones of passion hollow
breaking
upon his burial ground
m e m o r i e s 
the measly heaps at her feet

his headstone 
deadpan
absorbed in thoughts of its own
stoic 
as a monastic
persistent in resistance —
her piteous pleas 
unheeded

pious cypress pray for her  
they sway—backlit
with an aura of haloed angels 

her parasol-storm cloud 
spins hood of dusk 
overcast-eyes betray
face of unclouded evenfall
obelisk shadow needles 
her need to leave—
mortal hours spun
with the sun who was shunned
dwindle 
sunbeam-shaped-shadows
mock demise 
of golden swan god

shadows lay long upon litterfall
remains of the dying day 
composting 
with skeletons of leaves

churchyard cypress 
supple-spined at noon 
stand erect for Evensong    
swept up 
like saints in salutation      
lifted with chapel voices  r i  s i n g
from a white-cloud-choir 
elevating the Magnificat beyond
the bruised-bloom of bella donna blue

cypress stretch for immortality
yet remain mortal 
medieval-rooted
in drama of her qualm
grown in the loam 
of her psalm’s groan
a lament of fate 
tinged with praise of faith

she walks alone
the black parasol folded    
tucked 
under her arm—    
a blackbird roosted ‘til dawn

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Janice Canerdy July 10, 2026 at 7:08 AM Susan, CONGRATS on your well-deserved win. Your somber, period-piece poem takes us down the dark path of Victorian grief. Janice

Sam Kauffman May 12, 2026 at 11:22 AM My Dearest Rhyme Time Friend, I am walking with you in the emotional "storm" of this black parasol and all of its majesty as "psalms groan" in the veils of grief. Sweet poetry sis this poem reaches the apex of the stars in majestic poetry. Love the way you entwine the Victorian essence. Sending you blessings on clear morning light! Thank you for sharing your immense talent and being such a wonderful role model! Susan Ashley May 23, 2026 at 8:53 AM My Dearest Rhyme Time Friend, it's wonderful to see you! I haven't been here at PS for the last few months due to a busy schedule but I'm so glad to cross paths with you here today. I'm gratified to know you enjoyed the "Victorian essence". I tend to be obsessed with it, my dear poetry sis lol! Thank you for gracing my poem with your golden poetic presence. Your beautiful words truly touch me deeply and lift my spirits to beyond the clouds where the skies are ever bright and blue. I hope all is well with you and yours, my sweet sis. Warmest wishes sent on daydreamy breezes.. ~Susan

Rob Carmack May 9, 2026 at 5:50 AM I don't think I have ever read anything of yours I didn't like. Congrats and thank you for supporting my contests. Susan Ashley May 10, 2026 at 5:12 PM Dear Rob, I’m truly touched to received your kind sentiments. Thank you for your wonderful words and for the honor of my poem’s placement in your esteemed contest. I’m thrill to be among the great poets on your list. Your sponsorship is deeply appreciated. Warmest wishes my poet friend.. ~Susan

Hilda Greenhough April 25, 2026 at 1:24 PM This is an awesome view of grief with the black parasol narrating the events. I like the Victorian background to the verses. I too have some memory of those elders who had been influenced by it. A great poem to an exciting era. Susan Ashley May 10, 2026 at 5:17 PM Dear Hilda, it’s great to see you! I haven’t been here much over the past few months.. just busy with trying to keep up with life :) I’m glad you appreciated the Victorian background. Thank you for letting my imagination stir yours. Your wonderful comments are truly gratifying and I’m grateful, my poet friend. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

sara Etgen-Baker April 21, 2026 at 5:20 PM your imagery and descriptive words made this poem engaging. I especially liked a veil mid breath and death hides her widow’s face absent of light..night-dyed parasol I have a fascination with the roaring 20s era....maybe I lived a past life then...something to ponder. Enjoy your poetic voice, hugs to my poet friend Susan Ashley April 24, 2026 at 7:50 AM Dear Sara, I'm so glad to know that you felt engaged with my poem. I was hoping to draw the reader into her veiled grief. I can see you as a dancing flapper in the roaring 20s :) Maybe we have lived past lives in eras we're fascinated with and carry the memory in our marrow.. I like to think that's true for some reason. Warmest wishes and hugs to you, my sweet poet friend.. ~Susan

Paige Hind April 21, 2026 at 3:34 PM I feel in losing herself she is saved by the black parasol itself, grief doesn't always break on dreams- whirling is a weirdness for it, hmmm.... I know that may not make sense, but I am just rambling, lol- wonderful, wonderful work and effort, wow, Susan <3 Susan Ashley April 24, 2026 at 7:45 AM Dear Paige, the black parasol does give her comfort as a protector and companion. I adore your poetic "rambling", your response to my poem is wonderful! Thank you, my poet friend, for your visit and kindness. A round of applause for reading 'til the end lol! Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

Sara Kendrick April 21, 2026 at 12:03 PM There must be a contest because I have seen several of these posted, if so, yours reads like a good contender to me. Way to go. Thank you for sharing it with us. Sara K Susan Ashley April 21, 2026 at 12:33 PM Dear Sara, I wasn't aware of any contest for "black parasols", I just wrote this for fun and because I have an obsession with Victorian England :) I applaud your perseverance in reading this lengthy poem. Thank you for your gracious visit and kind words. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

Frederic Parker April 21, 2026 at 9:54 AM I found your poem, dear friend, dear poet, captivating in its journey through loneliness and quiet dignity, I couldn't help but picture her as a thin tall stoic woman filled with grief but not a overwhelming grief, sad but not broken as though she had already passed through that door...Frederic Susan Ashley April 21, 2026 at 12:27 PM Dear Frederic, it's wonderful to see you! I adore your vision of the widow in this poem. I pictured her much the same way but the way you've expressed your thoughts here is very poetic and insightful. Thank you for sharing in the emotions and imagery of this long poem, and, you get a round of applause too for seeing it through to the end! :) I hope all is well with you and yours. Warmest wishes, dear friend, dear poet.. ~Susan

Charles Messina April 21, 2026 at 3:47 AM Amazing poetry, Susan. Although long poems aren't my fancy, I did actually read this twice. Still looking through the dictionary (lol) Beautiful writing as always, my dear friend. Warmest wishes... Charlie Susan Ashley April 21, 2026 at 7:34 AM Dear Charlie, haha, glad you still keep that dictionary handy! :) I give you a standing ovation for reading my poem twice and for using the dictionary :)) Thank you for your gracious visit and for your kindness. I value your wonderful thoughts, my poet friend. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

Andrea Dietrich April 20, 2026 at 4:39 PM Such great use of imagery and metaphors for sadness in this eloquent work. Is it for any particular contest? Susan Ashley April 20, 2026 at 5:03 PM Dear Andrea, I know l-o-o-o-n-g poems are not your favorite poems so I applaud your time in reading my poem. Thank you for your wonderful thoughts. I wrote this just for fun and because of my obsession with Victorian society. I may enter it in an open contest but it’s a long piece so not sure how well it would do. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

Paula Goldsmith April 20, 2026 at 12:28 PM WOW!!! What a wonderful write/story you have here. Love your added notes. Great Ending... "Good Luck" Have a lovely day writing away............ Susan Ashley April 20, 2026 at 12:38 PM Dear Paula, it's great to see you! Thank you for your wonderful visit and kind words. I'm so glad to know you like the ending. I applaud you, my poet friend. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

Abdullah Alhemaidy April 20, 2026 at 11:56 AM Hello Susan Ashley :-) Very interesting read! Victorian style & Victoria are great, in my view! Have a nice day ~ AA Susan Ashley April 20, 2026 at 12:09 PM Dear Abdullah, I applaud your tenacity in engaging with this lengthy poem. Thank you for your wonderful thoughts and for the visit. It's nice to see you here today. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan

I Am Anaya April 20, 2026 at 11:41 AM Susan, I too was an Anglophile . The details of the fashions and such ideals are impeccable, I too love that era, oh how true how useless some of these items yet magnificent they looked! "absent-minded hands " the parasol, such imagery and overall beautifully spun. It's nice to see your poetry once again. April's blessings Susan Ashley April 20, 2026 at 12:07 PM Dearest Anaya, I stand in applause for your reading this lengthy piece and also because you are a fellow Anglophile :) Thank you for your gracious visit and wonderful thoughts. It's a pleasure to share this poetic space with you, my dear poet friend. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan