I 'met' her in her adopted city
turning the pain of her broken heart
into prose-poems that seared mine.
I thought them beautiful fictions,
then realised only truth
was that raw, that passionate.
She needed to leave the man,
his country and his family, all loved.
She needed her old home.
Returned, she lives in my adopted city
(I’m elsewhere now; we’ve never met)
begins writing new, beautiful ... fictions?
[Poem #76]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Monday 25 May 2009
The Grandson
'Everyone says
leave him with his father,
can’t take a child to live
in a country like that.'
'What!' we said.
'You’ve been
the one constant
in his life.
'In South-East Asia
they’ll love
you beautiful blondes.'
She took him.
Too admired,
they couldn’t go out,
got mobbed.
Came back here.
Now he’s teenaged
tall and lean, big-eyed.
She’s given him
stepfather, step-brothers.
The other day
he hit her.
[Poem #75]
PS (years later) that last was an isolated incident, I'm relieved to say.
leave him with his father,
can’t take a child to live
in a country like that.'
'What!' we said.
'You’ve been
the one constant
in his life.
'In South-East Asia
they’ll love
you beautiful blondes.'
She took him.
Too admired,
they couldn’t go out,
got mobbed.
Came back here.
Now he’s teenaged
tall and lean, big-eyed.
She’s given him
stepfather, step-brothers.
The other day
he hit her.
[Poem #75]
PS (years later) that last was an isolated incident, I'm relieved to say.
Monday 18 May 2009
The Girl Next Door
A pretty three-syllable name
I never heard before.
Wasn’t sure at first
if she was girl or boy
despite long hair –
breasts just beginning.
She spoke softly, looking down;
liked playing with our cats,
asked their names.
I’d meet her walking
on the beach like me;
we’d smile briefly.
The older sisters
and little brothers
were noisy, laughing.
She: big-eyed, serious.
We began having
conversations, then they left.
[Poem #74]
I never heard before.
Wasn’t sure at first
if she was girl or boy
despite long hair –
breasts just beginning.
She spoke softly, looking down;
liked playing with our cats,
asked their names.
I’d meet her walking
on the beach like me;
we’d smile briefly.
The older sisters
and little brothers
were noisy, laughing.
She: big-eyed, serious.
We began having
conversations, then they left.
[Poem #74]
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